


stand in your arms without falling to your feet

by mercuryretrograte (brujadelmar)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Car Accidents, Casual Sex, Drug Use, Internalized Homophobia, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Byun Baekhyun/Kim Jongin | Kai, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Open Relationships, Past Jung Soojung | Krystal/Kim Jongin | Kai, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2020-05-12 08:59:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 57,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19225906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brujadelmar/pseuds/mercuryretrograte
Summary: falling out of love is also a love story.





	1. I, II, III

**CHAPTER I – THE INVERSE OF A ROUTINE**

**.**

He always worked at night.

That was the biggest problem of his life, he concluded during his daily visit to a coffee shop. Because the first time he listened to sax was during the sunset, he may have unconsciously related both things; it was natural to only start feeling the wave, that feeling that went down his spine, only when the moon was reigning on the sky. It made sense, after all, everybody expects musicians to work at night, except in special events, like weddings and birthdays. Jongin accepted this truth and spent ten years of his life working at night, even when he was in school all day long. It was never tiring to play. He loved what he did, every piece of his being seemed to resonate with music like it was a basic necessity like eating or sleeping. He started to appreciate music when he was a small child, a little ballerino, but his heart was only taken when he went to open Jazz night at a public park.

It was magical.

He remembers the clothes, the nice silk, the way the light fell over people while they were laughing, drinking, casually existing… the night wind, the strong feeling of freedom, the smell of cigarettes, the pleasant noises of ices hitting on the glasses… everything… It was a modern symphony. It was different from watching a concert – the real spectacle, the true reason for people being there was to become the attraction themselves. The jazz was nice, perfectly executed, but what would it be without everything else? What’s the point of creating music if people couldn’t be a part of it? The night had its own sounds and the sax… ah, the sax belonged to the night, too. Jongin couldn’t play any other time. But when he was a kid, he just stared at that man blowing a golden thing and making amazing sounds.

“Do you like it, Jonginnie?”

He loved it. He already belonged to the saxophone.

He never wanted to stop making music, even when he had no energy left. His family supported him, paid his courses, helped him to go to classes, understood why he was so poorly at school’s basic subjects. When you truly were born to do something, everything else reeked mediocrity. Maybe the only other love he had was reading – this one, a morning activity. He would bathe under the sun, book in one hand, not afraid at all. While people ran around under umbrellas, his skin would be happy to be blessed by the sun again and again. The words in the paper were almost as good as the sound to his ears. Since music wasn’t allowed in most reading places, Jongin stuck to reading in cafés, in the waiting rooms and restaurants.

Alone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

.

 

**CHAPTER II - CULTUREBUTNOTTHATCULT.COM**

**_SAX KING KIM JONGIN IS CAUGHT HAVING LUNCH ON A FAMOUS RESTAURANT ON HIS OWN_ **

BYUN BAEKHYUN

 

 

> _It seems like Kim Jongin is still the same, after all the mess of his hiatus. The famous saxophonist was eating on the famous restaurant of his friend, the chef Do Kyungsoo. As always, Jongin smiled and waved to fans, but ate by himself, only reading a book. It’s good to see he’s healthy and active, but we are all expecting a word on his sudden change of career and he doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to tell what could have motivated his new choice as an entrepreneur. It’s a known fact that he decided to put a “temporary” end (his words, people) on his brilliant career and buy a music studio on his own. Even with new artists signing “his” Label (as the amazing singer Lee Taemin), Jongin hasn’t given a formal explanation or a note to his fans, that also miss his face on the magazines. While we can’t call this a formal ‘media blackout’, he doesn’t seem very interested in participating in public life as he used to be just a few months ago. Kim Jongin was the favorite magazine face in January, and now, in the burning summer, he’s barely talking to fan representatives. We, as fans, can only hope that everything is okay with our nation’s sax King._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> .

 

**CHAPTER III – THE ACCIDENT**

 

**.**

 

 

He woke up at 10 a.m. It was his regular time to wake up at Thursdays since he had danced until late at the club. He didn’t take a bath when he arrived, so his clothes still smelled like smoke. He couldn’t take the smell of it – he never put a damn cigarette on his mouth, but every other musician did. Jongin tried not to judge them; he couldn’t smoke because he relied on his lungs to play.

His phone rang and his heart vibrated with the name on it. A million thoughts crossed his mind, only to disappear when he read the message.

 

_Please don’t come back here._

Jongin’s heart broke a little more, even if it’s been breaking every goddamn day since they last saw each other. Yet, it still hurt.

He read the other messages, eating non-stop – he barely looked at the food, lately. He just wanted to eat. It was bad, and he had to run twice, thrice a day to compensate his overeating. His legs hurt in a good way, but his chest burned as if the act of running activated sad and painful memories. It’s what he’d been doing; running without a finish line.

He ignored the work messages – they’re just informing him. He doesn’t have to take any decision, to say a word. That’s why he put his money into it – to not have to be there. That was how he feels, like a ghost, walking around, running, trying to not be seen. Sehun’s calls were the most insistent, but Jongin knows his words one by one. _You’re sick, let me help you._

He considered it. Waking up late, being consumed by jealousness, pain and having no energy. Watching the days go by. Staring at his phone nonstop, waiting for anything, even a rejection.

Jongin typed:

_How are you?_

He wanted more than just rejection. He wanted any crumble. His fingers wiped the plate and it was fruitless, so he put on clothes and left home. There was a new coffee on the other side of the street and he watched how they made cute, pretty soft things. Maybe, if Jongin ate them all, he would go back to be the soft person he used to be.

It was just crossing the street, but old habits die hard. He put a cap on, a mask, and sunglasses. He didn’t take a coat or an umbrella, not for a place so near, but the fear of being chased by someone was real and palpitant. Sehun tried to call again and Jongin’s heart hurt for his closest friend; Sehun had real problems, differently from Jongin, and yet he cared, he reached.

Jongin left the building, holding his phone. He stared at the people instead, their faces, their clothes, the way they walked. He was so obsessed with art, the sax, the world inside music, that he was disconnected from the other realities. He was now reading messages over people’s shoulders, trying to find some sense in other skins. He spent the first free weekend of his adult life at his sister’s, watching how she managed to raise two kids, what were her problems and thoughts, how she looked over things. He watched his brother-in-law and how it would be to be in love with a man like him, to have a house, to be like that.

He stepped out of the building and it’s drizzling. His phone vibrated again and, for a fraction of a second, he thought about waiting until he was inside of the café, warm and quiet, to appreciate the words and the attention he wanted so badly, but again he looked at it like the world was about to end.

 

_I’m good. It would be better if you stopped trying to contact me. Please, leave me alone._

 

Jongin lost track of the time; it was like the words could hypnotize him.

The last remaining pieces of his heart were smashed into dust. Jongin stared at the phone and he didn’t feel wet or pushed by people. He just felt that he lost the little spark of hope inside him.

[The first time Jongin had his heart broken, it was because of a friend. He remembers waiting for Taemin, his best friend since ever, at his new school’s gates. They used to be the same. To like the same music, places and share the same dream. When Taemin came out, hair freshly dyed, an earring on his ear and his arm around new friends, Jongin didn’t know what to do. Ever since that day, every step they took was to walk away from each other, even in the same places.]

He raised his head. He was completely wet. He tried to connect the words to answer anything, but then he looked to his front and saw the store and he needed food. Sugar. A sweet thing. There was a bright star on the top of the sign and Jongin winced in the middle of walking.

He heard someone saying something, trying to hold him, but before—

The first thing he saw was his mother. Her hands holding his, her voice saying his name. He heard other people’s voices, but he barely registered. She came next to him and said:

“You’re okay, Jongin.”

“Where am I?” He forced the words out of his lungs – he could see fractions of her face.

“Hospital,” she said kindly. “But you’re okay. The meds were a bit too strong for you. It’s been three days.”

In the sixth day counting from the last day he remembered, he was fully conscious. The first thing he saw was the digital clock on the wall, the date, and the weather. It was still raining. He was still in a foreign place, but it didn’t look like a hospital room. He moved his arms and when he noticed he could move them, he grabbed a cup of water on the nightstand next to his bed. He drank it in a blink of an eye, but water fell on his chest, making the fabric of his clothing stick to his skin. A person came in, dressed in green – a woman.

“Hello, Jongin,” she said quietly, smiling. “How are you feeling?”

“Confused,” he said. “Have we met before?”

“A few times,” she smiled. “I’m the nurse and you wake up regularly to drink water and eat, but you seem to forget. The meds you’ve been taking are not that strong, but you seem to be sensitive to them.”

“What happened?” He asked, noticing, finally, that he was in a hospital room. “Where’s my mom?”

“It’s not the time for visiting yet,” the nurse said slowly, quietly, as if she was talking to a kid. “You suffered an accident, but you are recovering very fast! In a few days, you’ll be ready to leave.”

“Really?” he mumbled, trying to move. She touched his arm.

“Please don’t move. The painkillers are making you dizzy and you can hurt yourself.”

Jongin obeyed. He was not one to fight against the waves, mostly, but he was feeling dizzy.

“Okay,” he looked at her, smiling, numb. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“You just woke up,” she said. “You don’t need the distress. Why you don’t read your loved one cards and letters?”

He looked around, watching the gifts, balloons, teddy bears and cards.

“Unfortunately, the fan and the press letters had to be taken to your house, otherwise it would make our work a bit harder,” she said, taking the cards and a few gifts while walking. “You’re popular. You had many visits.”

“Really?” Jongin asked, blinking. He knew he was popular, but— “Who?”

“You can see their names,” she pointed, giving him a few cards. “Some noisy group of friends, two pretty kids, a boy, and a girl, some good-looking women—”

“My sisters,” Jongin said quickly but regretted it. “My family and friends.”

“Yes,” she smiled. “Do you want privacy to read or do you want me to stay and help you?”

“No, thank you,” he read the name on her tag. “Mrs. Kim.”

 

 

_When you said 'I want to die' the last text…? I wasn’t expecting it literally._

_Get well soon!_

_We love you!_

_Moonkyu, Jimin & Woonsik._

_[we sent you a teddy bear too]_

His family came to visit and instead of explaining to him about his own situation, they just talked like it was in the past. It was expected because they brought the kids – and Jongin could never be more grateful, of course, - but he expected them to speak about it. They didn’t.

He was more awake. His leg hurt and sometimes he was so dizzy he could see geometric forms on the ceiling.

 

 

_Jonginnie~~ ~_

_Please get better! I’m missing you!_

_Seulgi._

He asked for a mirror. He knew, by analyzing his reflex on the spoons and by the pain on his body, that he wasn’t much hurt on his face, but it shocked him how skinny he looked. His hair was a mess.

The doctor came to his room when it was clear that he stopped forgetting things. Jongin was conscious of everything; the pain, his body, the food, the difficulty to pee and poop, the so-called showers that consisted of rubbing a wet cloth on his skin.

“You can see this here,” the doctor pointed to an x-ray. “That’s your Tibia and Fibula.”

Jongin looked at it and he could see his leg and how the bones were broken and slightly to the side – he wanted to push it a little so they could fit in the right place.

“Is it serious?” He asked because that was the way people reacted in the movies. It should be the right thing to ask.

“Not really, it can be fixed,” he explained. “You should be at home already, but you got hurt in many other areas of your body and we had to do every possible exam to discard the problematic possibilities.”

Jongin didn’t remember any exam.

“Oh,” he mumbled.

“The recovering will be a lot more difficult,” the doctor said, moving and somehow, Jongin noticed he had a small hickey on his neck. “You have titanium plates and screws in your leg, as you know.”

Jongin nodded; this information was somehow funny as if he was a superhero now, and not just had a very yellow and swollen leg that he couldn’t use.

“One month in bed, no movements, you have eighteen stitches to fix,” he said slowly, finally keeping the x-ray where Jongin couldn’t see. “After that, you’ll have to use crutches for about three months, based on the previous tibia-fibular cases. In either case, I recommend you to return to consult every two weeks and as soon as you walk, you'll get a good physio.”

Jongin nodded again, numb and lost. It sounded like a long time, but he couldn’t grasp the concept of time while being locked in that room.

“We also have good psychologists here,” he said casually. “Since your family doesn’t want a regular clinic. You can schedule a home visit.”

“I’m not an addict,” Jongin mumbled. “I rarely drink.”

The doctor didn’t react, as if the answer wasn’t making any sense.

 

 

_You’re not allowed to die unless I’m right beside you. If you disobey me, I’ll draw a mustache in your dead body before you get buried._

_Love you to the bones._

_Taemin._

He didn’t go back to his apartment, but to his parent’s house instead. They established a routine of taking care of him and Jongin was touched to see that his friends personally came to sign their names on it. 

The first week wasn’t bad. The kids were around, the tv was in his room, and the meds were still strong to help him deal with the pain. He took a good bath with the help of his oldest sister (the privilege of being the baby). In the second week, he had guests.  

Sehun, of course, was the first.

“Hello, broken doll,” he said, coming in. Against the low lights and the beige-like tone of his old room, he looked like a detective in a noir movie.

“Hello, handsome,” Jongin smiled. Sehun turned on the lights, took the empty plates off the bed and laid next to Jongin, throwing his expensive shoes on the other side of the room.

“How are you?” Sehun asked, sharing the same pillow. He didn’t look disturbed by the smell.

“Well,” Jongin looked down at his leg resting on another pillow. “To be honest, not much like me.”

“I see,” Sehun laughed and by his watch, he was working before coming. “You do look like the spoiled baby you are.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Jongin snorted.

“Any pain?” Sehun asked, poking him.

“A bit, the meds help,” Jongin looked at him, enjoying the body heat. “It’s worse to warn every time I need to poop.”

Sehun made a face.

“It could have been worse,” he sighed. “We are happy you’re okay.”

“I know,” Jongin whispered. “I’m grateful.”

Sehun looked at him for long seconds as if the words were on his mouth, but he said nothing.

“Did you visit me at the hospital?” Jongin teased.

“Yes,” Sehun nodded. “One side of your face was kind of purple. You look way better now.”

“I still feel disgusting,” Jongin confessed, eyeing the room just to be sure they were alone.

“That’s all?” Sehun raised one eyebrow. “That’s all you’re feeling?”

Jongin rubbed his blanket, his hands moving since his body couldn’t. He thought about how long it had been – 18 days. Was he allowed to—

“You know how I feel,” Jongin said. “You’re my best friend. We don’t need words.”

Sehun closed his eyes as if he was expecting that Jongin would say it. He licked his lips and cracked his neck.

“Please tell me this isn’t happening because of him,” he pleaded.

“Did he visit me,” Jongin asked, nervous, the feeling on his guts making him nauseous (or maybe the meds).

“No, only family allowed,” Sehun said dryly. “I came in because I was with your mother, just like Seulgi. The boys literally broke in. He wouldn’t do that, of course.”

Jongin’s heart was beating way too fast – he forgot that feeling. Anxiousness.

“Did he say something—”

“He didn’t send a card but he called me… and your mother,” Sehun said again, impatient. “The big bear. On the room.”

Jongin searched in his mind (so many bears) to find which one, which one was hidden between the gifts, holding the smell, the touch he was missing.

“It’s downstairs,” he mumbled, pushing his body unconsciously, the pain warning him.

“It’s just a fucking bear,” Sehun complained. “If you want him to come then I can call him.”

Now it was fear – terror, complete desperation.

“No,” Jongin said loud. “I don’t want him to see me like this.”

“Like this?” Sehun snapped his fingers. “You look the same, Jongin. There’s nothing different to see but a human body recovering.”

“No, I don’t want him to see me,” Jongin continues, stuck in a loop. “I don’t want him to pity me.”

“Too late for that, I guess,” Sehun says. “You keep following him around, like a fool, asking for his attention… at least this time it would be justified.”

Jongin kept quiet because he was guilty. The soundtrack on the tv was quiet and sad. It reminded him of that day on his house—the two of them, the strong rain outside, his lips—

“Please don’t,” Sehun asked. “They already think you tried to kill yourself.”

“What?” Jongin fell to his senses. “What?”

“You walked in front of a moving car, Jongin,” Sehun said seriously. “What else could people think?”

“That I was distracted?” Jongin asked, angry, trying to sit up. “That it was an accident?”

“You’ve been like shit for months,” Sehun put a distance between them. “You’re acting differently and you don’t even touch the sax for a while. You became a recluse and suddenly you got hit by a car. It’s only natural that people think you…”

Jongin felt his eyes burning. He sat up, ignoring the pain on his leg.

“I didn’t…” he mumbled. “Sehun, I didn’t.”

“I believe you,” Sehun rubbed Jongin’s shoulder gently. “I know you didn’t throw yourself in a car. But you were killing yourself, either way, Jongin.”

Jongin heard the kids screams downstairs and smiled. He loved them so much. He wouldn’t imagine a world where he wanted to stop seeing them. He would miss life if he died; he was blessed.

But why he didn’t feel like it?

The news came with Junmyeon, which wasn’t a surprise at all. He visited Jongin on a Sunday night when the kids were in bed and Jongin was watching a random movie on tv. He had no stitches and his leg was less swollen; he moved it sometimes. He took standing baths using the crutches and he could poop in peace, at least. The purple marks were fading and a hairdresser cut his hair.

“You look good,” Junmyeon said and it was beyond unfair that he was dressed so elegantly and presenting himself flawlessly.

“Well, it’s been a month,” Jongin says bitterly.

“I’ve been taking care of your whole professional life and business and that’s how you repay me?” He laughed, pushing a chair to sit closer to the bed. “It’s hard to have time when I have to do every single thing and still manage to sue people for creating false rumors about you.”

“Sorry,” Jongin said, even if he was still angry. “It must have been hell.”

“Actually, the stocks were rising after the accident,” Junmyeon smiled sadly. “Apparently people would love to buy your music in case you died.”

“No doubt,” Jongin smiled back.

“How are you?” He asked and he sounded soft, his true color. “I miss you.”

“So do I,” Jongin said gently. “I’m better. It was a long month, but I’m grateful to be alive and well.”

“I’m glad to see you are positive,” Junmyeon reached to hold Jongin’s hand. “How’s been the therapy?”

“It’s nice,” Jongin didn’t lie. He felt good to talk about things with her – but he was hiding so many things that, in the end, it felt like talking to a family member. “She’s nice.”

“Does she help you to figure things out?” Junmyeon asked slowly.

“I guess,” Jongin shrugged, moving his toes to simulate a movement. “She thinks that this city life is being too busy and draining my creativity and that makes me… numb. Distracted.”

“She’s not wrong,” Junmyeon smiled and his eyes were sad. “I’m saying this for a while. You need a real break, not a palliative.”

“I’m having a break,” Jongin pointed to his leg.

“No, not inside of a room with air conditioner,” Junmyeon laughs nervously. “Not in a place where… bad memories can reach you. Jongin, the best thing for you now is to be away from the public eye for a while. To disappear for a while until everyone forgets—”

“For me,” Jongin took his hand away from his friend’s hold. “Or for the business?”

“Both,” Junmyeon sighed. “You’re a public person. If you don’t leave the city, the press will make your life hell. You don’t want to get in the list of ‘artists having a mental breakdown on the streets’… again.”

“It wasn’t a breakdown,” Jongin almost screamed. “I was distracted.”

There’s a silence so uncomfortably held that Jongin even took his old porridge, now mourn, and started to eat it. Junmyeon rubbed his face and said quietly,

“Jongin, if you died, I would be thrice as rich as I am today. I’m saying that for your wellbeing because I love you.”

“I know,” Jongin pouted like a kid. He was starving for this – love declaration.

“I found a nice place for you to rest,” Junmyeon fumbled on his pockets. “I talked to your mother. I know someone there who can keep you company while you’re still recovering. It’s far from here… a private, pretty and agreeable place.”

Jongin accepted the small card with the address passively.

“It’s just for staying. You can have visits and everything, not a clinic but also not a hotel,” Junmyeon explained quietly. “But you can be unreachable… for some people…”

“Did he ask about me?” Jongin asked suddenly.

“Sometimes,” Junmyeon said with no effort because unlike Sehun, he wasn’t aware of the details. “He believes you don’t want him to visit.”

“It’s true,” Jongin said quickly. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to talk to him.”

“I don’t think you should do that now,” Junmyeon laughed dryly. “Give time for your leg and your heart to heal.”

One night, he was almost falling asleep while Moonkyu was reading a book. Jongin was still a bit dizzy because of the meds – they didn’t stop him from basic surviving skills, but the side effects made reading a nauseous activity.

 

> “… _a tacit rivalry that gave her a curious exhilaration, a sense of certain superiority over Abby—emotions that Therese had never known before, never dared to dream of, emotions consequently revolutionary in themselves_ ,”

and he paused to breathe. Jongin kept looking at the ceiling, now the words being too loud and demanding, stopping him from thinking about anything else.

 

 

 .


	2. IV, V

 

 

 

**CHAPTER IV – THE HOUSE IN THE WOODS**

**.**

 

 

He left on a sunny Thursday, not particularly excited but glad that he was leaving his house. After so long living with him, his sisters didn’t bother to leave the café to say goodbye. His mother, of course, was there, waving and trying to help to carry the boxes, no matter how much Sehun complained about it.

He was using jeans for the first time after the accident; a simple white t-shirt and pink slippers. Seulgi laughed when she parked the car, watching him putting the sunglasses on.

“You look like a celeb leaving the rehab to get their morning Starbucks,” she said, face framed on the windows’ car. “I’m your driver, I guess.”

Jongin crutched his way to the car by himself. He was glad to be a bit independent.

“I hate coffee,” he said. “You’re too pretty to be just a driver.”

She smiled happily and he was already feeling a bit better. His mother made sure he was going to put a pillow under his leg and that he had enough food for the travel. Sehun said to Seulgi,

“Make sure he’ll get safe,” he complained. “Looking twice before crossing the street.”

They listened to songs in the first hours, but eventually, they got tired. She helped him to go to the bathroom at the first stop, and they returned to the car with more food and no hurries.

“Did Taemin visit you?” Seulgi asked, munching fries. “The last time I saw him was… three months ago.”

“He’s busy overseas,” Jongin said, holding his burger. “Soojung too… as always.”

Seulgi shot him an understanding look, as always. She was very empathetic, of course, but they all grew up together and she knew what he meant.

“Well, you did choose a bad month to get wrecked,” she smiled. “Try the winter, next time.”

He smiled back.

“We have two hours,” she checked her watch. “Do you want to rest after eating?”

“No, lately I haven’t been nauseous,” he lied. “The leg is the only problem and I’ve moved it a bit already.’

 

 

When they reached the place, far away from the city’s commercial center, Jongin wanted to throw up badly. He left the car immediately after the stop, almost losing his balance, holding on the crutches. Seulgi didn’t notice, probably mistook it for eagerness. The place was green – full of trees and flowers. The houses were small and because there were so many trees around them, the ones on the top looked like treehouses. The parking lot was just in front of them and to Jongin’s horror, there were only stairs leading to them – wooden stairs, like the houses.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He breathed out.

“What?” Seulgi asked, fixing her black cap before grabbing a box. “It’s a nice place.”

“There’s no fucking elevator,” Jongin said, hopeless. “How did he expect me to climb that?”

“Well, with your crutches,” she said. “It’s clearly an old place, of course, they wouldn’t have an elevator from the parking lot to the houses.”

Jongin was trying to gesture and stay still at the same time.

“What are you going to do outside?” She laughed, incredulous. “There’s a balcony and everything. You have to rest, Jongin.”

“Amazing,” he took his phone to call the ‘landlord’. “Now, I’m a princess locked in the tower.”

“Which one?” She asked, holding the box. “Gotta take this before I give up.”

“Let him come down,” Jongin complained. “I won’t let you carry all this stuff all by yourself.”

“I have muscles for that,” she winked.

But they waited. To Jongin’s surprise, a tiny, smiling man came down in pajamas and slippers, as if it wasn’t four in the afternoon. He had brown hair and a funny smile; a songful voice.

“Aaaaaaaaaa,” he screamed, running down the stairs. “Sorry, I fell asleep, let me help you.”

He didn’t talk to Jongin.

“Kim Jongdae?” Jongin said, confused, trying to follow Jongdae’s fast body with his broken one. “Right?”

“Of course,” he screamed back, already climbing the stairs. “Be right there, I’ll bring help.”

Seulgi laughed, her body bending and shaking. Jongin sighed.

“I’ll help him,” she announced when she had control over herself. “He’s using the same pink slippers. You two will be great friends.”

Jongin doubted in silence, watching her picking bags and boxes, the man running as a bolt of lightning up and down and when he couldn’t stand being useless anymore, he tried to climb the stairs by himself.

Looking to his feet, one degree at a time. One…  two… pause for breathing… one…

“You don’t want to fall from those stairs,” someone said. “I fell once when I was drunk. Three stitches.”

Jongin looked up, way too fast – the remaining light of the day was passing by the trees and hit his face. The image of a man was slowly forming, from a blurred vision to a smiley, pretty face, framed by a mess of silver hair. The man was standing two degrees up and he looked impossibly tall.

“I had eighteen,” Jongin said. “Eighteen stitches.”

“Another reason to avoid more,” he said and his voice was strong, loud – if voices could be weighed, his would be a ton. “Just wait a second.”

Jongin watched passively the man leaving with no introduction, disappearing from his face. He was obedient since the accident; he waited.

It took two seconds before one of his crutches was taken and he was no longer standing.

“Ok, easy,” the man said, sweeping Jongin’s feet off. “Drop the other… Jongdae will take it.”

Jongin looked at the man.

“What the…”

“Chanyeol,” Jongdae screamed again, appearing on a window. “What the hell are you doing?”

“You said grab the heaviest thing,” Chanyeol screamed and Jongin wanted to cover his ears. His shirt was a bit wet and Jongin could only pray that it wasn't sweating.

“Thing,” Jongdae sounded tired. “You know what, bring him, then! Be careful with his leg!”

“Fine,” Chanyeol screamed back and both men seemed to be ignoring Jongin’s opinion, but Jongin was just too numb to fight against them. He enjoyed the warmness and the view, instead of trying to walk on crutches that never gave him freedom enough. There were cats around, he noticed, sitting on windows, the floor, and the trees. Jongin counted four, but he knew that, being cats as they were, some more should have been hidden.

The man wasn’t struggling to carry Jongin. “So, it’s okay?”

“Huh?”

“Your leg,” he said, pointing with his chin. “Am I shaking it? I heard I’m not like… very delicate doing things.”

“Well, it’s shaking, but I don’t care,” Jongin said simply, staring at the leaves and tiny flowers hanging from the trees.

“Huh?” He laughed. “Is it hurting, then?”

“It hurts all the time,” Jongin sighed. “I couldn’t spot the difference.”

They shared a look that gave Jongin the impression he said the wrong thing, but then the man smiled.

“I’m Chanyeol, by the way,” he had dimples, just like those angels had in old paintings. “I’m your occasional neighbor.”

Jongin snorted because he said it almost singing, his mouth open like a kid – he had a funny, childish face, misplaced in such a big body.

“Ah,” Chanyeol almost screamed. “We’re done!”

Jongin held him as he climbed down; he didn’t want to step too strongly at first. Seulgi ran to them, her quick feet reaching the degrees like it was nothing;

“Don’t let him stand without the crutches,” she said and Jongin realized he didn’t even saw her passing by them. “The doctor was very clear about it.”

Jongin took the crutches from her, smiling.

“Thank you,” he said to both. “I can go by myself now.”

“Ah,” Chanyeol said. “You’ll never be by yourself here, I guarantee you. We have a nosy neighbor. The houses are too close, we can’t hide secrets.”

“Nice,” Jongin said dryly and he was surprised by how his own voice sounded. Seulgi laughed hard, walking away, not waiting for them. The entry was… behind the houses, in the opposite way to the windows; it was almost hidden, and they had to climb down another few degrees, but this time Jongin could do it by himself. It was dark under the entry, but the living room was ample and open. The central window was so large that the sunlight was enough to make the room visible. Jongin came in and looked around at the tiny couch, the small wood table, the albums in the shelves and the pink curtains.

“It’s so cozy,” Seulgi mumbled, sitting at the couch.

“And clean,” Jongin said. “Or maybe there are no kids here.”

“Yeah, you can bet on that,” Jongdae said, leaving the door in the corner, carrying a few mugs. “Here, hot cocoa. Junmyeon told me you’re not a coffee fan.”

“Yeah,” Jongin said. “I’m not, but thank you.”

“He’s a baby,” Seulgi stood up and fixed her cap before grabbing a mug. “Has a baby taste.”

Jongin didn’t argue but watched how her shirt lifted just a bit and how uneasy Jongdae was with her presence. His ears were red; he stared at Jongin’s eyes, not hers. He took the mug before sitting since it was a lot difficult. Seulgi helped him and he sipped the beverage slowly.

“Is there anything you want from the city?” Chanyeol screamed from the door. “I’m going there now.”

“Oh, no,” Jongdae frowned, giving him a mug. “I guess I would enjoy some muffins if you have the time.”

Chanyeol drank the whole mug in an impossible time, making a little sound of satisfaction after. Jongdae laughed – soulful, loud laughter – and took his empty mug.

“Thank you,” Chanyeol nodded. “Nice to meet you two!”

Jongin watched how he waved and turned back; his loud step sounds getting lower and lower. A memory crossed Jongin’s mind when he was waiting in the car, waiting for a fraction, a small flash of the sight of the man he loved. How he waited for an hour to get one second of his back, umbrella and full clothes.

“Jongin,” Seulgi poked him.

Jongin looked to her and then realized that Jongdae was sitting in front of them, in a small and old wooden chair.

“Hi,” Jongdae smiled. “I will repeat. I’m Kim Jongdae, your roommate.”

Jongin blinked.

“Room… mate?”

“Yes,” Jongdae opened his arms, smiling. “This is our house from now on.”

“Junmyeon didn’t tell me I was going to share the place,” Jongin said, uncomfortable.

“Technically, you won’t,” Jongdae held his mug, unbothered. “You have your own room and bathroom, a nice view from the balcony. My room is in the other side, where there are no windows. I work at night mostly and sleep during the day. The only thing we share is the kitchen and the living room and I rarely use both. You won’t see me if you don’t want to.”

“Ah,” Jongin mumbled. “Is it okay, the room thing…?”

“About the balcony? Yes, I don’t want a big window. I need the darkness to fall asleep at noon,” Jongdae laughed again – he had an easy mood. “I’m a nurse. I don’t have any… a regular routine. Some days I sing in a bar in the city near here. I’m… only seen at nights, I guess.”

“I know the feeling,” Jongin smiled. “I used to… I guess.”

“In case you want to play, I wouldn’t mind,” Jongdae shrugged. “Not even Chanyeol’s drums can wake me up, so, go on.”

“I don’t play the sax anymore,” Jongin said quickly.

“It’s been a hard time for his creative skills,” Seulgi informed Jongdae, because Jongin wouldn’t. “He had a few troubles before the accident and now he’s trying new things as managing, for example.”

She was being the classic sweet Seulgi, the last to know any evil in this world. Jongin didn’t manage a thing and he wasn’t even the actual owner of his ‘studio activities’ since Junmyeon bought the majority of the stocks. He wasn’t also promoting it, but his friends; Jongin was just existing as a popularity magnet as if he wasn’t capable of doing anything else.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Jongdae’s face was… oddly calming – Jongin was smiling by reflex. “I would love to hear more about it, but I don’t really understand half of it. Junmyeon has been my friend since we were kids, but I still can’t say much about what he does.”

“Money,” Jongin said.

“Probably,” Jongdae laughed again. “Before I show you the place, let me tell a bit about the condo schedule: they take the garbage Tuesdays and Fridays, we recap, so you’ll see the three different garbage cans, each one with a name on it. We don’t allow loud music past eleven, big dogs or caged birds. The apartment manager gives us a list of what we can do and how to have a nice convivence or whatever. I don’t have pets and I prefer not to… I already work taking care of people, so…”

Jongin couldn’t pay attention to the words. His voice was gorgeous and calming and it made Jongin sleepy, distant.

“… please keep the bathroom clean. I don’t cook unless every place is closed and the delivery doesn’t come. I don’t have a car, but Chanyeol drives me anywhere or lend me his Vespa’s keys. I’m not a good driver but I can drive you in his car too, because of his leg,” Jongdae smiled brightly for a second, remembering something. “Ah, I’m the hyung. So even if you’re stubborn and pouty, you need to listen to me! I’ll bring food for you when I come home. I also know how to take care of your leg.”

Jongin looked at him and this time he really looked for whatever this man was. His small body, funny, agreeable face, his long and baggy clothes, his brown hair, parted in the middle.

“He’s not a rebel,” Seulgi said. “He’s nice but he has… bad moods.”

“So I’ve heard,” Jongdae continued. “Don’t worry, no one will annoy you, I promise, but if you need help, you can call me anytime. There are a few numbers on the kitchen wall, those are for help. Chanyeol isn’t here all the time, he travels a lot, but Minseok, the apartment manager, he never leaves home and he’s very good at domestic issues. He saves my life every week.”

“Is there any taxi on which Jongin can rely on?” Seulgi asked worriedly. “In case he wants to leave home on his own and no one is available.”

“Well,” Jongdae said and he had a polite tone, avoiding staring at Seulgi too much. Jongin unconsciously looked at the distance between them, just to check if they looked like a couple. No one ever said such a thing. Seulgi was a tomboy and people expected Jongin to date… well. Someone different.

“Get up,” she said. “Wake up, Jongin. He’s asking you to follow him.”

Jongin blinked again, stared at Jongdae’s face, standing in front of him and took his hand before supporting himself on the crutches. Seulgi was always a step behind him, like a true friend, in case he fell. He was walking safely, of course.

“The bathroom isn’t that big but we have a bath, which is great for people that can’t stand for too long,” Jongdae said, turning the lights on without entering the room. “This is mine and that’s yours. My room is just a black hole, but I’m not hiding anything so if you need something, you can get in.”

“Okay,” Jongin inspected the corridor and the open doors. Jongdae took the lead and entered the door he pointed as Jongin’s. “The window is wood too and it’s heavy. When you feel like closing, ask for help. The bed is new, Junmyeon bought himself. The closet is old, it was there when I rented the house.”

Jongin walks in, his eyes scanning the room in silence – it wasn’t as big as his old apartment, but fitted the huge wood closet, an old writing desk and a chair (both wood, it was a recurrent thing, he guessed) and still a considerable space in the middle.

“We can put your books on that desk,” Seulgi said, walking in. “The closet is big enough to fit all of your things, even the big bear.”

“Oh, the cute bear,” Jongdae smiled. “If it a fan’s gift?”

Jongin was ignoring them, walking slowly to the wall next to the bed, where he found a nail. He touched the wall. It had a space to hang something. Since he had no paintings maybe he would hang a picture of his nephew and niece.

“Let’s put the things already,” Seulgi called him. “I have to go back soon.”

“I can help him,” Jongdae said quickly. “You can leave with no worries. It’s my day off.”

Jongin’s focus now was in the window. He could see Seulgi’s car, many other cars, and the stairs; the garden and the plants around the houses. It was a quiet place, no doubt. He could imagine the birds singing in the morning.

Jongin looked around and realized he was alone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Seulgi left earlier and Jongdae gave her a bowl of food to eat in her way. Later, Jongin realized it was his own food that he was probably saving to eat later because he called his friend – Chanyeol – to bring pizza for them. Jongin took a long time to reorganize the box contents on the closet and to put his books in the order over the table. It was funny to need help to put the things in the high places since Jongdae was shorter and visibly weaker than him. Jongin put the gifts inside the closet and sat down to check his phone. He zoned out while reading the messages and he was surprised when he heard his name.

“I would take your food to your room, but if you want to survive in a place full of green, don’t leave food around,” Jongdae said as soon as he saw Jongin crutching to the living room. “Eat in the table or the kitchen and then clean immediately.”

“Really,” Chanyeol said, coming in, boxes and boxes on his hands. “We all learn this lesson…”

Jongin stared at the boxes. Muffins, cake, pizzas.

“I wasn’t sure of what you would like,” Chanyeol smiled, a bit shy. “You eat cheese and meat, I mean, that’s what Jongdae said.”

“I do,” Jongin said weakly. “Thank you.”

“He’s so exaggerated,” Jongdae sighed, bringing the plates. “At least we have food for the next days.”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol nodded. “I’m going to travel tomorrow, so you better eat it.”

“To where?” Jongin asked politely, unsure of what saying next. He didn’t think he was going to have to talk to two guys he barely met on the first day. He wasn’t an extrovert or someone who could have fun talking.

“Japan,” Chanyeol smiled again and his eyes were bright as if they were painted. “I work there. Sometimes here, but mostly there.”

“Then why do you live here?” Jongin frowned, now genuinely curious. “I mean, in this country.”

“Well, it’s my home,” Chanyeol snorted loud, his nose scrunching. “Where my family and my old friends live. Of course, I have to live here, but I got a place there too. And to be honest, I travel to so many places that sometimes I have to keep… a root somewhere.”

“He’s a producer,” Jongdae explained, make sure that there was space to everyone. “He’s just here to compose, right?”

“And to rest, well, lately, only to rest,” Chanyeol sighed, sitting to eat. “I have been under a creative block.”

“Oh,” Jongdae smiled. “Haven’t thought about it but I guess you and Jongin have things in common.”

“I don’t play the sax anymore,” Jongin explained quickly. “But it’s not a creative block. And I don’t really produce anyone. I just have a studio and a label, but it’s just my name on it. I don’t do anything related to music anymore.”

Chanyeol listened, munching half of a pizza slice and even with his cheeks full, he looked thoughtful.

“Well, it’s the music business after all,” Jongdae shrugged and then ate a piece. Jongin stared at the pizzas before choosing one.

“He’s vegetarian, this one is broccoli and tofu…” Chanyeol pointed, his long and large finger way too close to Jongdae’s slice. “So, you don’t play anymore? Why?”

Jongin could hear Jongdae kicking his neighbor under the table, but even if he couldn’t, Chanyeol reacted exaggeratedly.

“Hey,” Chanyeol complained. “Is it the accident? I mean, if it is… I’m sorry for being dumb.”

“No,” Jongin said. “I’ve stopped playing months ago. I don’t know why.”

Jongdae seemed surprised but didn’t make any comments. It was night already and the sound of a parking car was the only noise outside. Chanyeol touched Jongin’s arm with his oily hand, just poking him.

“It happened the same with me and the piano,” he smiled, still munching. “I was so in love with it…  I mean, I had a classical music teaching since I was a kid, it was what motivated me to pursue a producer career. When I was eighteen, I had a whole studio at home and a lot of famous musicians knew my artistic name, _Loey_. Have you heard about it?”

“It sounds familiar,” Jongin said politely, picking a slice.

“Yeah, my prime years were when I was just freshly out of high school,” Chanyeol told them, but Jongdae seemed to already know it. “Then, one day I kind of fell out of love with it. I don’t know how it was… but shortly after it, I preferred to spend time stargazing and rarely touched my piano. Then one day I sold it.”

Jongin listened to it quietly, munching and thinking. He didn’t have what to do in the next morning – that was his reality since he signed the deal with Junmyeon, a deep contrast to his adult Jazz days, where he barely slept, playing at night, promoting at day. Few years of his life, his early adult years were just a long brush, that he could barely remember with details, like a dream. The last months were just existing. That was a high privilege, he knew, to sit down and to be able to do nothing but recover, but it was not for him. He would be glad to be working while sick.

“I stopped playing the sax when my father died,” Jongin said. “He was the one who supported me."

Jongdae stopped eating. Chanyeol turned to him more, breaking into Jongin’s personal bubble.

“Huh, was it long ago?”

“Almost two years,” Jongin said. “Then I fell in love and worked a bit more, but it didn’t last.”

Jongdae was staring at him and his eyes were saying things Jongin couldn’t translate into words, but it was beyond surprise, it was something else. Chanyeol leaned his head to the side like a puppy.

“The sax or love?”

“The sax,” Jongin wanted to laugh. “The love is still alive and it’s killing me.”

It was raw.

Jongin had no idea from where these words were coming from. He thought absently that this was what he was supposed to say when he was in therapy.

“Yeah,” Chanyeol said in his heavy voice that seemed to carry anything but heavy words. He made them quite simple. “It’s kind of awful when that happens. Sometimes I think that maybe I can’t compose anymore because nothing really impactful happens in my life. I think last time I wrote any song was when I was in love, too.”

Jongin fixed his posture – his mother’s voice was screaming in his head, - and tried to smile. He wanted to show the empathic wave he was feeling but there was a lot more attached to it.

“I thought that guy on Japan and you were great,” Jongdae said casually and he probably meant to be like that; it sounded like an old conversation, but the words hit Jongin in the face.

“He’s great and I love being with him,” Chanyeol said quickly, turning his head to his friend. “But it’s like… a chill song not… you know, a burning thing. It makes you feel happy, not creative.”

“It doesn’t have to be mutually exclusive,” Jongdae snorted.

“That’s rich coming from you,” Chanyeol slapped his friend and the noise startled Jongin. “You only sing sad songs! You have a taste for break-up drama llama and we know it.”

“Well, but I’m in a healthy and loving relationship,” Jongdae argued. “And any pain is just my interpretation of other people’s pain.”

“I’ve seen you trying to write lyrics,” Chanyeol raised his voice, but he sounded playful. “It’s still heartbreaking.”

“I follow the style,” Jongdae winked and ate more pizza.

Jongin said nothing; he was already regretting the conversation. Now, the feeling of being exposed, too much exposure was coming from places he should feel comfortable. He ate in silence and he coughed his food out in a miscalculated early swallow.

“I’ll pick an ice tea for you,” Jongdae said, standing up, while Chanyeol reached Jongin’s shoulders in case he needed help. “I’m not a great host…”

“You’re roommates,” Chanyeol corrected. “I’ll be your annoying neighbor.”

Jongin placed his hand gently over Chanyeol’s and took it, indicating he didn’t need help. It was just a cough.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled and pushed his body away from him. Chanyeol noticed that little gesture and his big shining eyes got a little sad.

“Okay,” Chanyeol pressed his lips together in a bad smile and nodded. “The pizza is a little dry ‘cuz I took too long. Sorry.”

“I’m grateful,” Jongin said, now a bit more awake. “This is a very good neighbor reception.”

Chanyeol broke into a smile, now a real one. Jongdae brought ice teas and cups and Jongin felt like a little kid again, uncomfortable but aware of being lucky. They had an easy talk, as neighbors do. Jongin found out they adopted a frog that lived nearby, they fed some street dogs and cats and took care of the apartment manager cat when he was away. Jongdae didn’t have anything alcoholic but wine at home but Chanyeol had a whole cupboard with booze.

“Mostly presents,” he explained. “I work out and I don’t like to drink.”

Jongin noticed he had a strong physique and felt embarrassed about his own body becoming the shadow of what it used to be.

“Muscles have memory,” Jongdae said. “That’s why you still look this way. You worked out, right?”

“Yes,” Jongin nodded. “But I also liked to dance. I was a good dancer.”

“Then you should teach us,” Chanyeol said and he put a whole muffin inside of his mouth.

“I’m not that bad,” Jongdae frowned. “And you’re not terrible either.”

“It was just a hobby,” Jongin smiled. “Right now I can’t do it, of course.”

“You can use your arms,” Chanyeol snorted, making a little dance. There was a shining watch on his wrist and he seemed to notice it. “Well, fuck. I have to go home to pack my things.”

“You always pack on the last day, when are you going to learn?”

Chanyeol said something, but he spat food more than emitted any sound. Jongdae was disgusted and Jongin laughed, the loud and weird funny laugh that he almost forgot he could let it out.

“What’s that sound?” Jongdae laughed too. “It sounds like a cartoonish evil witch!”

Jongin couldn’t stop laughing; he hit the table and the ice tea bottle fell on the floor. He was shaking and making sounds through his nose and he couldn’t even understand what was so funny about the whole thing but he simply couldn’t stop. Chanyeol laughed too and in the process, he spat the rest of the muffins and then they were gone. Jongin almost fell from the chair and he felt a bit possessed, even after a few minutes, when they all got to breathe in silence again.

“I don’t know what was that,” Jongdae sighed, “but do you need me to drive you to the airport?”

“I’ll ask for an uber,” he smiled. “I’ll leave the keys. You need to look out for Jongin first, now.”

“Yes,” Jongdae agreed. “I’m his big brother now.”

 

 

 

 

During the muffins’ eating, Jongdae prepared a mug of chocolate again and it fitted Jongin’s need for sugar. They made a list of possible dinner times and dishes, Jongdae taught him how to wash their old washing machine and told him how to deal with the people in the neighbor.

“Not only people,” Jongdae said, smiling. “It’s a bit too high for dogs, but once in awhile, we get a cat visit. They really climb the trees… or somehow the stairs and the gates. I don’t ask questions.”

“I’m not… a cat person,” Jongin said.

“Just give them food and let them chill,” Jongdae showed him the food sack. “That’s all I do to Tan when I have to keep an eye on him. He’s a chill cat, though. You’ll like him.”

Jongin ate his muffin, never complaining. No cat would be worse than a human, at this point.

“I was a bit surprised,” Jongdae said and then licked the corners of his mouth. “I didn’t expect you to talk about your personal life. Junmyeon said you’re reluctant about it… around strangers.”

“You’re not supposed to be a stranger,” Jongin said gently. “We’ll live together.”

“Yet,” Jongdae looked at him. “It wasn’t an easy thing to say.”

“I guess not,” Jongin mumbled.

“Chanyeol is good at getting people to open up. He has this… well, he makes people happy. He’s good at it.”

Jongin thought about his home and how he was supposed to make that place his new home now. He looked at the walls, the floor, and the wood table. It was windy and once in a while, a leave fell through the window.

An alarm rang.

“It’s my night medicine,” Jongin said.

“I’ll pick for you,” Jongdae stood up immediately. “Where is it?”

“White bag on the writing desk. It’s my meds bag.”

“I’ll let a water bottle and cups there so it’s easier,” Jongdae said quietly as if he was talking to himself. He made Jongin drink the water he was used to drinking with the pills twice. In the middle of his ranting about being hydrated, he was already grabbing the dirty mugs to wash.

“Why did you accept having me as your roommate?” Jongin asked abruptly.

“Huh…?” He smiled. “I don’t get many people coming to live here for a long time. They normally rent for a weekend or a holiday away from the city. They like the idea of being away… I don’t even have a tv here, so it’s not really a place to stay for a long time. I wanted more money this month and I liked the idea of having a friend, instead of a guest.”

It sounded genuine.

“I’m hurt,” Jongin didn’t point at his leg. “It’s harder to have someone like me around.”

“I’m a nurse,” Jongdae shrugs. “As long as you don’t need me to be a nurse for you, I don’t mind taking care of a friend, since I’m good at it.”

“Why do you need more money?” Jongin knew he was being nosy, but he didn’t want to be fooled. “Is it much?”

“Not really,” Jongdae went to the kitchen and the sound of water took over during his pause. “I want to buy a ring for my girlfriend. We’ve been together for a long time and she’s 31. It’s… I think it’s time for me to say I want us to be together forever. Not that she’s pressuring me… I don’t even know if she wants to get married… probably not… but I want her to know she can trust me to stay for a longer time.”

Jongin listened to him and he was feeling cold and distant. That feeling of sleepiness, as if he was stuck in a dream, didn’t leave him yet – it was probably the meds…

“That’s nice,” he said weakly, thinking about distance and impossibilities.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was easy to adapt to his new routine.

 

He had to take three meds a day and it gave him a sense of time; 7 a.m., 3 p.m. and 11 p.m. He couldn’t sleep a full night, but he got to sleep many times a day, to read a book and check the news. He ordered food when he was really hungry and ate the leftovers when he wasn’t. When he was in the mood, he watched movies. Sometimes he was awake to see Jongdae coming home and then he greeted him just to remind himself that he had company. The phone calls were short and informative, mostly. He politely asked for no visits.

Going to the physio was the worst part of the week – actually, the stairs in the way to the Uber. He was taking advantage of being outside to buy oily food, fried chicken and burgers and visiting the therapist. But he couldn’t escape the stairs.

“I can’t carry you like Chanyeol, but I can give you a hand,” Jongdae side hugged him, grabbing his waist under the shirt; it was probably to be more stable, but Jongin felt his entire body reacting to his embarrassment. “Oh, are you sensitive here?”

Jongin tried to laugh, but it sounded like a groan and he kept quiet until they got home.

 

 

 

The first book he finished was on the table. As soon as he finished reading, he already detested it. It was a gift from Sehun and it had that ironic tone that suited him and not Jongin.

He picked a book between the pile that would guarantee him a happy end. He heard a car parking, but the sound was way too loud, and he moved his chair to get near his window. It rained a day before and the ground was still humid; a big, square car – that looked like an adventure car – was causing all the noise with many bags attached to the ceiling. Jongin stopped, playing with a book in his hands and watched Chanyeol jumping off the car.

“I think something fell,” he said. “I bet it was the vase.”

“Is the bike okay?” Jongdae asked peacefully from inside the car. “That’s something to worry about.”

Jongin was noticing the tanned skin and the shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Chanyeol looked like he was spending some time at the beach. His hair was tied back in a tiny ponytail and he was using some expensive sandals.

“The bike is fine,” he screamed, which wasn’t necessary since even Jongin could hear them. “But the vase fell on the way.”

“Come inside, let’s go back,” Jongdae said. “Hoping no car had run over it.”

Jongin smiled, but he wasn’t sure why. He watched them leaving again and stayed by the window until he heard knocks on the door. Jongin went calmly, pushing up his crutches carefully and asked who it was.

“Minseok…” the person answered. “But… who’s this? I don’t recognize your voice…”

Jongin opened the door when he realized it was fruitless to ask when he didn’t know anyone at the place. The man on the other side of the door was smiling curiously; he had big eyes, a gummy smile and dyed hair. He was short and he was using a navy apron.

“Hey,” the man snapped the fingers. “I really forgot we had a new tenant. Jongin, right?”

“Yes,” Jongin tried to bow, moving only his head. “Nice to meet you…”

“Minseok, a very forgetful manager,” he said. His voice was low and soft as if he was whispering. “Hope I hadn’t wake you up. I heard Jongdae’s voice…”

“They had to leave to pick a vase,” Jongin informed politely. “I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

“Ah,” Minseok shook his head like a kid, smiling. “I’ll wait here, then, so we can talk.”

Jongin couldn’t stop him, of course – he could barely stand, - so he stood by the door until he realized that the man was well accustomed with the place. He asked Jongin a thousand questions about his moving and Jongin answered mechanically, but in the end, he felt like he was being useful.

“Oh, I can bring you Tan to keep you company on the weekend,” Minseok said. “Jongdae likes to spend in the city and you must be alone here.”

“I only had dogs,” Jongin explained quickly. “And eventually my friends will come around. I’m just adapting…”

Minseok stood up and inspected him; different than Jongdae and Jongin, he was using the kitchen easily, making some coffee.

“You’re famous, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Jongin said in a heartbeat.

“Your face is familiar,” Minseok shrugged and kept doing his coffee. “I work at a University. I teach music. I’m pretty sure my students brought something with you on it.”

“I have some albums, jazz music mostly,” Jongin frowned. It was a coincidence to be surrounded by musicians. “Do you play?”

“Not much,” Minseok picked the boiling water carefully. “I don’t like to go outside. I’m finishing my thesis soon, I didn’t finish because I’ve enlisted in the middle of it.”

Jongin felt that feeling, that disconnection to the real world, where people took care of themselves and paid their own bills.

“Ah,” Jongin said. “It must have been hard.”

“I’ve made a lot of friends,” Minseok said. “But now I have to teach. Aren’t you interested in what they brought about you?”

“No…” Jongin said sincerely. “I didn’t think people study what I’ve made or are interested intellectually on it.”

“Of course, they do,” Minseok snorted. “You’re famous, you’ve said yourself.”

“It doesn’t matter, I don’t play the sax anymore,” he said like a broken record.

“And?” Minseok laughed, grabbing a mug that Jongin was sure that belonged to Jongdae. “That happens. I used to be a trainee for years, but I never debuted, instead I choose an academic career. It’s still relevant to me. So I’m sure your music is still relevant to people whether you’re doing it or not.”

Jongin didn’t know how to answer.

“I was avoiding the accident talk,” Minseok made his coffee and the smell was calming. “But how are you feeling? I need to know if you need anything.”

“An elevator,” Jongin said without thinking.

Minseok didn’t react bad – he laughed.

“That can’t be done,” he said. “This place is near an ecological reserve. We recycle, we reutilize things and we try our best to not consume too much energy. Didn’t anyone tell you about the stairs?”

“No one is expecting me to leave home,” Jongin said.

Minseok smiled and for a fraction of second, Jongin was taken aback by his beauty.

“Already calling it home, huh?” He sipped his coffee and made a happy noise. “Jongdae will leave this place eventually, so don’t get attached.”

Jongin let out a dry laugh. Good advice, he thought, but a bit too late to avoid a tragedy. Minseok was an easy person to talk, he allowed silence to fit between their sentences and Jongin liked the smell of coffee, it tricked him into a warmness that the taste didn’t bring. Yet, he wasn’t unamused when the silence was broken by Jongdae’s screams. Jongin unconsciously looked at the window and smiled as he saw Jongdae piggybacking Chanyeol up the stairs. They came in laughing and Jongin was right, Chanyeol came back from a beach; he looked like a surfer guy, straight out of a magazine.

“I brought gifs,” he announced without taking his sunglasses, even if there was no sunlight inside. “For everyone!”

Minseok clapped and he greeted both with tight hugs. Chanyeol and Jongdae just touched him carefully, like Jongin was a porcelain vase.

“I took a plane to Hawaii, my boy got a bit of sun,” Chanyeol explained while dragging a bag inside. “Ah, Minseok, here it is, the Sake you like so much!”

Minseok really looked like a child, Jongin thought, seeing how he smiled brightly and sang happily. Jongdae was carrying his hospital bag and he looked tired; if he went home to grab the keys before picking Chanyeol, he must have had no sleep at all.

“Bring your bags home, this is a mess,” he yawned. “Jonginnie, do you need something?”

“No,” Jongin said quickly. “I’m fine.”

“Nice,” he smiled and he looked soft and cozy under his baggy sweater. “I’ll sleep. If you need anything, wake me up.”

Chanyeol and Minseok waited until he closed the door.

“Never wake him up,” Minseok said seriously. “Ask me for anything.”

“Or me,” Chanyeol said, shaking a box. “I’ll be home for a while now.”

“He’s an angel and he deserves to rest,” Minseok raised a finger.

Jongin smiled.

“That’s okay. I wouldn’t wake him up. I can do anything on my own, except… the stairs.”

Chanyeol snorted, as if that wasn’t a tragedy, and kept fumbling on his bag. Minseok seemed to be happy with his bottle and danced his way out of the room, entering the kitchen. Chanyeol found something and gave it to Jongin.

It was a blue sweater. To Jongin’s surprise, it had a bear in front of it, in a cute drawing.

“You have a lot of bear stuff from what I saw that day, huh?” His dimples were back. “I thought about you when I saw that.”

“It’s cute,” Jongin said and he was sincere. “It fits you.”

“It’s for you,” Chanyeol said quickly. “A welcoming gift.”

Jongin gaped, a little surprised. It was a nice thing and everyone was being overly nice to him, to the point that he was feeling like… they were pitying him. Maybe Jongin deserved. He was, indeed, someone who was kicked by his lover, who lost his passion and then was hit by a car. Maybe Jongin was the tragedy, after all.

“Huh,” Chanyeol scratched the back of his hair – he had hair under his armpits and some moles on his arms. “You… didn’t… Didn’t you like it?”

“I do,” Jongin said, a bit too loud. “It’s really cute! I’m grateful, thank you very much.”

Chanyeol didn’t look very convinced.

“Would you prefer a book?” He asked. “I noticed you have some so I didn’t think you—”

“I really love it,” Jongin almost pleaded. “I will use it, no doubt. Don’t worry!”

Minseok came back trying to hold glasses and the bottle at the same time; Chanyeol ran to help him.

“I can’t believe Jongdae only has those wine glasses,” Minseok laughed. “A real man must have a whiskey glass too, at least.”

“What’s a real man?” Jongin asked quickly, and he sounded mean, but no one noticed.

“Someone who’s a man,” Minseok said singing. “And owns a whiskey glass.”

“I have one but I drink vodka on it,” Chanyeol said, placing the glasses on the table. “I guess I fit the job description.”

They offered Jongin a glass of Sake, but his meds didn’t allow alcohol and he didn’t like the taste of alcohol. He wanted to go back to his is room and stay in bed, remembering a warm kitchen and wet lips. Re-reading messages from months ago. Listening to audios with sweet words he didn’t get anymore… but it seemed rude and impolite to leave them alone in (now) his house.

They didn’t drink much. Chanyeol told them how it was in Japan, in the studio and how some friends called him to stay for a while in Hawaii, so he left.

“And you bought so many things,” Minseok laughed. “You should be more careful with money.”

“I know, it’s just…” he sighed, wiping his mouth. Minseok was laying on the couch and Chanyeol sat on the floor, back resting on the couch. “I’ll be alone and working here locked for a while. I just wanted to enjoy and lost a bit of control.”

Minseok wasn’t mad.

“That’s okay, you have money, you spend… life is short,” he smiled. “How about your boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Chanyeol said quickly. “You know I don’t like those things. I mean, if I had a boyfriend I couldn’t be here with my two other boyfriends, right?”

Minseok laughed loudly – the tone was playful, Jongin caught it.

“Don’t forget Jongin is here now,” Minseok said. “He may believe you…”

Chanyeol turned his face to Jongin quickly, like he really forgot that there was another person with them. He started shaking his legs; he had big feet, Jongin noticed.

“Ah, sorry, Jonginnie, I’m just kidding,” he said. “And I was talking about Jongdae, please don’t misunderstand.”

“I didn't,” Jongin said, but his palms were cold. “Don’t worry about me.”

“And how’s college, Minseok?” Chanyeol was eager to change the subject. “I heard you’re having trouble with your thesis.”

“Who isn’t,” he shrugged. “University is just a place to burn minds, but I’ll survive, I guess. I just need some company.”

His voice was getting lower and lower and suddenly, Jongin couldn’t hear them anymore. He didn’t mind – he was daydreaming, thinking about low whispers and his real bed. His body was hurting to stay in the same position, so he moved in the chair and made a small noise. His presence was again the focus of the other two and this time, they excused themselves and left; Chanyeol came back to pick his bag and say good night. When he closed the door, Jongin was a hundred percent sure they left to have sex.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The first official visit was, of course, his family.

It was such a good day and it passed so quickly. Coincidentally, Jongdae was at home and he was nice and good with kids, charming with Jongin’s mother and patient with Jongin’s sisters. He was the kind of person that someone couldn’t hate and Jongin was noticing that by small things – the way he sang while cleaning, the fact he was always attentive and caring and how he could find a balance between touching (he loved to give massages) and respecting personal space.

They loved the house. They hated the stairs.

Rahee, still a little baby at his almost five years of life, cried when he had to leave and Jongin held his tears until the moment he watched the car leaving from his window.

“Ah, I knew it,” Jongdae smiled. “I’ll make you tea. I’m not the best at cheering people up…”

Jongin accepted the chamomile tea, tucked in his bed, in the dark side of his room. Jongdae sat on the bed and pet Jongin’s head.

“I’m sorry, you must miss them very much,” he mumbled.

“That’s okay,” Jongin sniffed the tea’s hot breath on his face. “It’s not that bad. I’ll stop crying soon.”

“I hope so,” Jongdae laughed. “I’ve once seen a man cry for six hours in the hospital, but he was in the worst conditions.”

Jongin looked at him and felt like a child. He was dumb – so dumb. A grown-ass man crying because his family left. Some people saw their families once in a year or even more; he had the privilege of living next to them, the privilege of returning back home whenever he wanted to. He wiped his eyes.

“I didn’t mean to…” Jongdae sighed. “I’m sorry. Working in an environment where people die made me a bit… hard to break. You have the right to cry as much as you want, okay? I’m really sorry.”

Jongin opened his eyes and stared at Jongdae, his old, beige clothing and his bare face. He never used make-up and Jongin realized that most men didn’t use it on a daily basis when they didn’t need to. He was so used to artists and women… He felt ashamed to put those in the same category; he knew the women around him used make-up because they felt pressured to do so.

“You look like you’re always scolding yourself for something,” Jongdae frowned, pinching Jongin’s cheek while he drank his tea. “You’re hard on yourself, right?”

“Yes,” Jongin mumbled and then gave him the empty cup, feeling guilty already. Jongdae seemed to read his mind, caressing his arm,

“It’s just a cup,” he said.

“I feel like I’m giving you some trouble,” Jongin said. “I hope Junmyeon is paying you well.”

“He always pays well,” Jongdae said, “but I don’t think you’re hard to deal. Is there anything you want to ask me? I have to go back to take a nap before my turn.”

Jongin looked at him and his soft expression. There were dozens of answers Jongin would like to have but Jongdae was just a man like him.

“Are Chanyeol and Minseok… together?”

Jongdae was surprised and his reaction was close to a puppy, with his eyebrows and eyes rising and his shoulders following them. Then, he snorted.

“Well, I guess,” he shrugged. “They are single, though. I try not to nose in their lives.”

“Ah…” Jongin said, a bit disappointed – he was curious. He wanted to know more, for some reason. Maybe he was starting to get interested in people again, like they were books, but not fiction, so they could give Jongin a bigger thrill.

“Did they say something?” Jongdae sounded worried. “Are you bothered by that?”

“No,” Jongin said. “No, I was just curious. I’m not bothered.”

Jongdae smiled.

“Good, because it’s better to focus on your healing. Other people’s lives and choices should never be a topic for us. I’ve seen people get sick because of that.”

There was something in the way he spoke that made Jongin feel odd. He wanted to say why he was curious, he wanted to say ‘I love a man’ with each letter, but it didn’t come out. Jongdae took his mug and left and the words dissolved in Jongin’s tongue, leaving a bad taste.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sehun was the second to visit and he brought Junmyeon with him. They were close lately, now that Sehun had a bit more of time and only his house’s decoration to care about. Seeing them together surfaced the same feeling of Taemin’s school gates, of the piercings and colorful hair. Jongin checked himself on the mirror to see if he looked at least okay.

It was fun. Sehun told him a few gossips about their friends and Junmyeon finally allowed him to see some news about the accident.

Jongin never felt so distant from himself while reading them. It hurt to see his fans’ worries; it amused him to read the speculation.

“Some think this is just a part of the marketing plan,” Sehun said laughing. “And now you’ll present a brand new public persona.”

“These ones are better than the rumors about him being dead,” Junmyeon sighed. He was wearing a cap and casual clothes and no one would recognize him, ever. “When Jongin shows up, they’ll tell I replaced him with a lookalike and that’s why he won’t play the sax.”

Even Jongin laughed about that. It felt good, to laugh about something so absurdly painful until it looked like a past subject.

“What if I don’t show up?” Jongin asked casually, testing the waters. Sehun didn’t bother to answer.

“Think about that when you feel better,” Junmyeon said, smiling gently, way too gently.

What if I don’t get better, Jongin thought.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chanyeol popped up when Jongin had just woken up. He had the keys and he came in so easily that not even Jongin was aware of that. He just stared at Chanyeol, holding his crutches with one hand and the juice box in the other. Chanyeol stared back.

“Sorry,” he said, bowing. “Jongdae doesn’t mind, it’s automatic… I’ll try to knock next time…”

Jongin was wearing an old shirt and his underwear, his hair a full mess, but it’s been a long time since he faced a mirror.

“Okay,” Jongin nodded. “That’s okay…”

Jongin took a while to realize that Chanyeol was fully dressed to go out and even a bit more to get that Chanyeol wanted to say something.

“Do you want juice?” He mumbled.

“No,” Chanyeol said, finally. “I was… going to grab some food in the city. I was… I don’t know, maybe you would like to go with me? Normally I take Jongdae but it seems that he’s spending the weekend at his girlfriend’s house.”

Jongin didn’t notice it. He hadn’t memorized Jongdae’s schedule and he no longer knew the days of the week. Jongin thought about answering no, of course, but before he could speak, he realized that Jongdae could’ve sent him a message and he had no idea where the phone was.

“Sorry,” Jongin said, putting the juice box on the table. “I… I need to find my phone. I don’t know where it is.”

Chanyeol just turned and started looking for it, as if Jongin asked. Jongin tried to join him, but with one crutch and no food, he was slow.

“Here,” Chanyeol found it under the couch. “Did you sleep here? It must have fallen from your hand.”

“Yes, I took a nap,” Jongin took it and bowed. “Thank you very much.”

Chanyeol waited and Jongin really wanted to say no, or anything to set him free from this politeness, but the first name he saw on the screen paralyzes him.

It was the same feeling from the accident. Like the world grew bigger and he became so small that he couldn't move anywhere, it was fruitless to chase after anything. His legs simply couldn’t take the distance to reach what he wanted.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**CHAPTER V – THE CHEF**

**.**

Jongin didn’t want to eat out that day, but lately, he hadn’t been dancing anymore and his friends were worried. His family was finding ways to deal with his father’s passing and so was he; but he was a slow learner. It bothered him when he was younger and eager to be the best. As time went by, he accepted that he needed time to achieve perfection.

He accepted to go to a restaurant with Junmyeon. Taemin was busy, way too busy. Sehun was traveling, unreachable. He had many parties to attend, many places that would be blessed with his famous presence, but Jongin was a simple man. He preferred to eat.

“You’re just being shy,” Junmyeon said, as soon as they were guided to the table. “You could go to the Miu Miu party with me, but you chose to stay at home. So it’s not about having company.”

“Do you know how long it takes for me to get ready for a party?” Jongin sighed; the waiter pulled the chair for him.

“Your bare face is enough,” Junmyeon smiled.

Jongin sat down, trying not to roll his eyes back. He was hungry and he needed food before any small talk; the restaurant had a minimalist aura and plenty of space, which was a contrast to the popular places, full of people, tiny tables and waiters and waitresses running around. Even the music was a bit low and then Jongin acted like he was supposed to.

“I don’t know what to order,” he coughed. “You can choose for me.”

Junmyeon didn’t even look at him.

“The chef special and two ice teas,” he politely asked. “We’ll have rolls for starters.”

“Would you like to take a look at our wine list?” The waiter asked, taking the menu.

“Maybe later,” Junmyeon smiled. Jongin watched them talk in silence. “Sometimes I forgot that you’re that shy when you leave the stage.”

“That’s my whole life now,” Jongin looked down, messing with the cloth napkins. “I’m sorry.”

Junmyeon sighed deeply.

“It’s just a creative block,” he shrugged, then searched for Jongin’s hand on the table. “You looked amazing at the Elle photoshoot.”

Jongin didn’t allow him to hold his hand.

“People will think we’re a couple,” Jongin pouted, his shoulders shrinking.

“They don’t care. No one here cares about us. Relax.”

Jongin looked around, to the well-dressed people and their expensive bags. He was one of those people – he is, - but he can’t help but feel disconnected sometimes as if this person is just a character he created to help to deal with his shyness.

“Stop overthinking,” Junmyeon smiled.

“Didn’t we come here because this place belongs to your friend?” Jongin frowned. “I hope he cares about us.”

“He’s the chef,” Junmyeon mumbled and then started a long rant about business; Jongin tried his best to pay attention, to pretend he cared very much about it, but he was so thankful when the food arrived and he could have a bit of silence. The food was delicious and the main course was absolutely delightful. Junmyeon called him out for licking his own fingers. When the waiter came to pick the empty plates, just before the dessert, Junmyeon asked to talk to the chef.

“I’m his friend,” he explained. “But I also want to say to him how delicious is the food here.”

An Aretha Franklin song started to play. Jongin knew it was her song, the one with a strong sax on the chorus. He started to whistle to the song, in a low voice. He was so entertained by it that he barely registered when he arrived.

Jongin had read about first love sight, but it wasn’t. The first time he stared at Kyungsoo, he was actually terrified.

There was nothing to be afraid of. Kyungsoo was short and well dressed, his apron engulfing his small body. He was beautiful, but Kyungsoo’s beauty wasn’t something you could absorb in one look – he wasn’t exactly eye-catching. His beauty was on his details, which Jongin couldn’t possibly see while he was shrinking in the chair. Kyungsoo smiled, bowed and said something, but Jongin only nodded. There was something about him that made Jongin feel small.

“You could’ve said hi,” Junmyeon said. “Or at least complimented him about the food.”

“I’m sorry,” Jongin said, thinking about his bare face and loose clothes. “I don’t feel that good about myself now.”

It wasn’t a lie, but Jongin knew it wasn’t also the truth.

 

 

 

After a few days, he met Junmyeon again, now for a business meeting. Inside of the room with a strong air conditioner, Jongin knew the right words to say and the right silence to keep.

“I wasn’t very sure about renting the studio rooms,” Junmyeon warned him. “I was a bit paranoid about people stealing our artists’ work.”

“What changed your mind?” Jongin asked, destroying a pen.

“Kyungsoo,” he said. “He’s good with security solutions, he gave me some numbers and I think we can protect some rooms and allow just the first floor to be rented.”

“Your Chef friend?” Jongin asked casually.

“Yes,” Junmyeon snapped his fingers. “Oh, yes. He asked about you.”

“About me…?” Jongin blushed like a kid.

“Yes, he recognized you, asked me if you were playing…” sensing the tense subject, Junmyeon lowered his voice. “I think he liked you.”

“My work?” Jongin asked cautiously.

“No,” Junmyeon laughed. “Not that.”

 

Jongin talked to him for the first time through Sehun, since they were friends. It wasn’t a surprise to find new people every time Sehun made an open dinner at his house. He was into home décor and every few months, his house was more and more like a Barbie house, every detail in perfect order – except his messy closet.

“I’ve got a real chef cooking for me,” he said as he accepted Jongin’s wine. “You’ll eat really good today.”

There was Kyungsoo, camouflaged in the dark kitchen in his all-black clothing, hardly interacting with Sehun’s friends, but cooking and cleaning in silence. Jongin watched him instead of talking too much, except with one or two old friends. Kyungsoo sat next to him and Jongin found the strength to say hello, after all.

“I remember you,” Kyungsoo said gently. “Come back to the restaurant.”

He didn’t explain why he wanted Jongin to come back. He just asked politely. He left without drinking, so did Jongin.

 

The first time they kissed wasn’t when Jongin went to his restaurant, but when they met again, this time at Junmyeon’s house, where Jongin felt comfortable to stay the night because he was sure that Junmyeon wasn’t going to hook up with anyone, unlike Sehun. Then, Jongin drank three glasses of sweet wine, telling Kyungsoo how much he hated sour tastes and spices. Kyungsoo smiled and said a few things about food, which seemed to be his favorite subject, and Jongin noticed how his mouth was shaped perfectly like a heart. He had a strong jaw and big, big eyes that grew even bigger when he couldn’t hear right. At some point, Jongin was almost over him on the couch, listening to Kyungsoo say things about the world and their culinary.

“Are you dating someone?” Jongin asked, drunk on the sight of him.

“No,” Kyungsoo didn’t react differently. “I work too much for that. Are you?”

“No,” Jongin snorted. “But that’s good, that’s great.”

Kyungsoo found that answer hilarious.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Jongin said. “Because I want to kiss you.”

“Not here,” Kyungsoo said.

 

 

Jongin woke up in Kyungsoo’s apartment with no alcohol left on his blood. He was using his underwear, but no shirt or pants; the smell of eggs and spices was inviting him to get up, but the bed was so soft and nice that Jongin waited a second before moving. The place was neat, with some pictures and a few books, some sort of monochrome pastel theme all over the room.

Jongin left the bed with the memory of the previous night. He still had the taste of whiskey burning down his throat contrasting with the cool air of the balcony. When Kyungsoo was talking about something but his voice sounded heavenly-like and Jongin felt like every fiber of his body was drunk in his words. When they kissed and it was wet and shaky, turning his body more and more lazy and warm, melting like ice cream on a sunny day.

Jongin tried to keep calm and not say words like a spell, but he was suddenly aware that he was finally experimenting with what he expected while reading books and watching movies. This quiet certitude of falling in love.

He walked out of the room, went to the kitchen and watched how Kyungsoo was cooking. He probably knew Jongin was there, watching him, but he didn’t even spare a look; he cooked like there was nothing else in the world, it stole his attention completely. Jongin was envious. He wanted to be the center of that attention. He wanted that attention.

Kyungsoo served the meal burning hot. Nice tea, fancy omelet with a blueberry sauce & cherry sauce, burning colors on that place as a painting. Jongin was a bit afraid to eat it.

“Don’t worry,” Kyungsoo snorted at his worries. Something softened completely inside of him.

 

 

Kyungsoo was a busy man. He woke up early, slept late; hardly spoke about casual things unless he was uncomfortable, but he was never uncomfortable with Jongin. He took off his clothes as if they had been married for a decade, and Jongin was still uncertain about a dozen of things; kissing and touching were easy, but when it involved just a bit more, he thought twice, thrice, a million times.

Sex was different. It was always in late hours or in the middle of the day, depending on Kyungsoo’s schedule, but never in a hurry. Jongin was a bit desperate, always, exaggerate, grabbing Kyungsoo too strongly, sucking him as he wanted to swallow him, kissing with the whole body touching. Kyungsoo took him softly, licked his ears like a popsicle, said words in his low voice against the back of Jongin's neck.

“Take it slow, Jongin. Appreciate it. You feel like heaven.”

 

 

 

 

 

He was so in love, but so in love, that he barely remembered the other events that happened in his life at the same time. He remembers some points; sister’s wedding, a collab, shows at night, three books, going out to dance. He remembered having sex, reading at Kyungsoo’s bed while he worked, eating on restaurants with him, watching television on lazy days, feet touching under the blanket. Kyungsoo’s happy laugh, his thick fingers and short nails, the way he slept without pants. Moles, thighs, lips. Jongin was drunk in love, on Kyungsoo. He looked at the sax and decided to give a second chance.

 

 

 

Soojung’s voice on his head, when they were in Paris, only nineteen. Her glasses perfectly placed on her head, her fingers holding a mug, and that deep stare that many times meant nothing at all.

“Your problem,” she sipped her expensive coffee. “You don’t know when to stop.”

 

 

 

Kyungsoo had a restaurant. He could have more than one, but he wanted a star. A Michelin star. Jongin didn’t know how to get one. His mind wandered to his childhood and his favorite videogame and he thought about Mario jumping to get a star. Kyungsoo didn’t jump – he spent sleepless nights at the kitchen, at the phone, over magazines on the table, reading, listening, cooking. Once he cried in frustration, just after trying to cook the same meat for the third time. Jongin ate everything and it always tasted delicious. Kyungsoo couldn’t do anything wrong; his fingers were precise at the kitchen, in bed. He was amazing.

Months passed. Jongin couldn’t play the sax again; he was caught in photoshoots, deals, pictures, and Kyungsoo’s routine.

Kyungsoo’s brother visited him, one day. Jongin was shirtless at the kitchen and embarrassed to death. Kyungsoo smiled softly,

“Don’t worry.” They knew about Jongin. It gave him a sense of importance, of being something irremovable on Kyungsoo’s life. Waking up next to him, bodies close, watching him do small things. It was his small, happy bubble, that kept him warm against the coldness of the exterior world and the fact that he no longer felt comfortable playing.

Kyungsoo never judged him or said a bad word, but Jongin knew that he felt uncomfortable with the subject. Like most people, he was worried about Jongin’s health and future. He kept a table reserved for Jongin, asked him to bring friends, family. Jongin didn’t want anything but be around his true love and for a while, he indulged Kyungsoo’s wishes, but soon he came back to his reclusion – but now, not in his room, but in Kyungsoo’s life.

 

He thought it was necessary. He came home after a meeting with Junmyeon feeling productive and he found Kyungsoo sleeping on the table. It hit Jongin how much skinny he was now, overworking. They barely had any sexual contact in the last few weeks and they didn’t talk about it, mostly because Jongin thought that this was the proof of their commitment, to share a life without having an intense sexual routine. Jongin looked at Kyungsoo, his dirty, tired hands and his body, mistreated and exhausted and he realized that he had to be more present to help his lover.

 

 

Kyungsoo didn’t want that.

He hated depending on people or being an ‘inconvenient’. It was a game of push-and-pull. Jongin lost. The more he tried to reach Kyungsoo, the space between them grew bigger. Kyungsoo asked for a break, took his key back, said he had no time for a relationship.

 

 

Jongin persisted, even when he noticed that the star was much more important than him because that was what Kyungsoo truly needed. He followed him. Went to the restaurant. Waited. Once he tricked Kyungsoo with sex – it didn’t last long and it made Kyungsoo even more distant, suspicious of Jongin’s every step.

 

Then, the accident.

 

 

 .

 

 

 

 


	3. VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> read the tags

**CHAPTER VI – THE PARTY**

**.**

 

The wind was hitting Jongin’s face and he wasn’t feeling anything else.

“…Jongin,” Chanyeol repeated. “Close your window.”

Jongin blinked but hardly said a word before closing the window with a hand only, distracted. Chanyeol’s car smelled like a beach and chips. It was full of bags, clothes and random things and there was a bunch of things hanging on the mirror. He was a good driver but he drove fast like he was in a hurry.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Chanyeol asked, looking at him through his dark glasses. “We can stop by a market and buy a few things instead of going out.”

“No,” Jongin smiled at him. “I’m fine, really. I just… I was thinking about something.”

“Someone,” Chanyeol corrected him. “I know this face very well. Ghosts of the past, right?”

“Yes,” Jongin snorted. “You can say so.”

“We can go out to drink,” Chanyeol suggested. “If that helps. There’s this place that I like to go and the booze is cheap.”

“I can’t drink because of the meds,” Jongin said. “I mean, strong things. But it would be nice to go somewhere, for once.”

“Do you like clubs?” Chanyeol asked and Jongin noticed there was music playing. He nodded. “I see. I’ve got a friend who owns a club not very far from here.”

“Too bad I can’t dance,” Jongin stared at his own legs. 

“You will dance soon,” Chanyeol says, smiling. “Don’t talk like you’re dead or something. Also, you can enjoy the music… and the performers.”

“Performers?” Jongin asked, but Chanyeol was distracted by something.

“Are you into some mex food or some kimchi?” He asked, taking a wide curve. “Or maybe fast food. I think we can get fries, at least.”

“Mex,” Jongin mumbled. “Is there a place to get it…?”

“Yup,” Chanyeol smiled. “Just a couple of minutes from here. You’ll like it.”

The thing Jongin liked the most was the sun on his face. They sat outside and Jongin played with the napkins and the straws while Chanyeol stopped to talk to pretty much everyone on his way. A tall guy even came out of his car to talk to them at the restaurant. Chanyeol hugged him and introduced to Jongin, but Jongin was so distracted that he didn’t get the name.

“Is that… the guy you keeping telling me about?” The man stared down at Jongin. “He’s cute.”

“No,” Chanyeol said quickly. “No, he’s just a friend. He’s living with Jongdae. We’re neighbors now, right, Jongin?”

Jongin smiled, a bit confused. The way the man called him cute made him feel like a child.

“Ah,” the man said. “I’m sorry. It’s just hard to be sure, around Chanyeol…”

“Stop,” Chanyeol hit the man in a playful way. “Jongin is a pure guy. He’s here to recover from an accident.”

“Ah, your leg,” the man noticed the crutches. “I’m sorry.”

“No problem,” Jongin nodded, feeling smaller. He was shy, but there was something about being the foreigner that made it worse. Chanyeol was different than Jongdae and he wasn’t a maternal person; he was distracted easily and he seemed to ignore Jongin’s screaming shyness.

Chanyeol called Jongdae before they left, just to inform that he was kidnapping Jongin.

“He wants to talk to you,” Chanyeol said.

Jongin took the phone.

“How are you feeling?” Jongdae asked carefully.

“Good,” Jongin said – numb.

“Do you have your medicine with you?”

“Yes,” Jongin said. “I brought with me, just in case.”

“Don’t drink too much,” Jongdae pleaded. “And be careful around Chanyeol’s friends.”

Jongin was uncomfortable.

“I’m not a kid,” he sighed.

“I know,” Jongdae laughed. “I’m not… talking about people offering you candies in a red van. I’m talking about you being clear about what you want and what you don’t want, right? Chanyeol’s friends are very… wild. I’m afraid you’re not ready for them.”

Jongin himself wasn’t sure of what he wanted.

“Okay,” Jongin said, giving up. “I’ll call you when I’m back. Send a kiss to your girl.”

The place he took Jongin seemed fancy. Jongin stared at himself in the mirror and felt… like a pile of trash. His slippers, his leg, his hair, and his face… he didn’t even notice how terrible he looked before.

“Can I… get in… like that?” Jongin blinked.

“Yes, of course,” Chanyeol snorted. “You look hot. No one cares about your crutches.”

“I wasn't talking about them.”

Chanyeol shook his head and helped Jongin to get out of the car. It was night, already – Jongin only noticed because he had almost finished the meds in his pocket. He looked up to the bright starry sky and was mesmerized for a moment.

“No one will pay attention to our clothes,” Chanyeol said, placing Jongin’s crutches gently under his arms. “Just relax.”

The security guard on the club recognized Jongin, but didn’t ask for anything. Jongin was relieved. The place looked like a strip club inside, with velvet seats and glitter everywhere. It was small and had a shiny bar; he wasn’t surprised when Chanyeol greeted everyone there, dragging Jongin with him. It made Jongin feel uncomfortable, under those lights and loud music.

He remembered going to clubs in Paris with Soojung. To smile and pretend he was enjoying when he wanted to go home, do nothing, sleep. Jongin sat down and drank orange juice, which the bartender was nice enough to make pretty for him.

“It does make him look cuter,” Chanyeol laughed.

“You need to be a handsome man to look good with Orange Juice…” the barman joked, smiling. Jongin didn’t pay attention. He wanted to be anywhere but there. Yet, he knew where he wanted to be and how he would find closed doors.

 _Take me back, please, take me back_ , something inside of him screamed, as always. A man stepped on the stage and started to make jokes – or at least made people laugh since Jongin didn’t find anything funny, even if he had an easy laugh.

“The first drag today will be our dearest friend,” he announced. Jongin looked around. Yes, it was a gay club: three women that he could notice within a superficial look and men. Lots of men. It didn’t surprise him, but it explained why he felt more comfortable.

“Oh,” Chanyeol heard the name and moved to whisper to Jongin. “It’s a close friend of mine.”

Jongin smiled.

The drag was skinny, using a long black wig and a long red, glittery dress that made her body look longer, like a line. She sat at the piano in the corner and her leg was exposed, showing high heels and painted nails. Jongin was hypnotized by the movement of her long fingers; he never saw a live performance by a Drag who could sing or play so well. He didn’t care about her looks or her masculine singing voice, he just wanted the music to go on, and on…

He was disappointed when it was over. Another drag came in and she was a dancer; Jongin yawned, sleepy and tired.

Chanyeol was still laughing and having fun and for a second Jongin thought about hailing a cab, but, well. The stairs.

“Can I keep you company?”

Jongin looked up from his chair. The drag sat next to him, a long, pink drink on her hand.

“Huh…”

“They’re my friends,” she pointed to Chanyeol and the guys he was laughing with. “So I guess you’re my friend too, you see…”

Jongin didn’t know what to say. She was pretty and she wasn’t using much make-up, so he tried to remember if he had crossed paths with a guy who looked like that.

“I’m Jongin,” he mumbled.

“I know,” she played with her straw. “I wrote about you once.”

Jongin stared at her, waiting for an explanation. She was watching the performance and drinking casually.

“You…” Jongin frowned. “Do we know each other?”

“Well, you’re famous, so…” she smiled. “I guess you don’t know me that well. I’m a journalist. I write about music for a magazine. When I’m not… you know, performing.”

“Ah,” Jongin said weakly.

“You’re probably not a big fan of the media,” the Drag smiled empathetically. “I respect that. I’m not working right now, so relax.”

“I’m fine,” Jongin lied. “It’s not like I’m hiding.”

“No, you look pretty casual,” the Drag offered her hand. “My name is Baekhyun, nice to meet you… in person.”

Jongin took the hand and kissed it. Baekhyun laughed, pleased.

“A full gentleman, I see.”

“A broken gentleman,” Jongin pointed. “I can’t pull your chair but I can treat you like a lady.”

Baekhyun stared at him, a bit curious.

“You look better than most people think you are right now.”

“I said it, I’m fine,” Jongin shrugged. “Most things they published about me are lies, anyway. I don’t mind.”

“Can you… stand and walk?” Baekhyun asked and then sipped his drink. Jongin nodded. “Good, let’s go outside.”

Jongin took a second to answer and Baekhyun threw his straw at Chanyeol’s back.

“Hey,” Chanyeol smiled, as if he just remembered their existence. “You did a great performance, Baekkie.”

“Thank you,” Baekhyun stood in his/her heels. “I’m taking your friend outside to get some air, okay?”

Chanyeol frowned, looking at Jongin struggling to get up. For a second, he looked older and wiser, but he was just confused.

“Are you, okay, Jonginnie?”

“Yes,” Jongin said, positioning himself on his crutches. “I’ll be outside. Don’t take too long, I’m sleepy.”

Chanyeol laughed and Jongin walked away without thinking too much about he was doing. Maybe he would escape and go home, sleep on the stairs instead of facing them. It wouldn’t be bad, to sleep staring at the sky. Baekhyun waited for him and helped him to walk, a hand on his shoulder.

“Does it hurt?”

“Sometimes,” Jongin said, being careful with the uneven floor when they crossed the door. The space around the club had a few guys smoking and some couples making out. He looked out for a place to sit and there were just cars. Jongin leaned on the wall, instead, trying to avoid the smoke and the noises. Baekhyun stood next to him and fixed his long wig, the glitter on his dress reflecting the lights of the club’s sign.

Jongin stared at him and thought he looked amazing dressed like that.

“Want a cigarette?” Baekhyun offered.

“No,” he shook his head. “Thank you.”

With a gesture as simple as offering the cigarette, Baekhyun dropped his hand and leaned in slowly until his nose touched Jongin’s, their breaths mingling easily. It was just another thing in this weird day, in this weird time, Jongin thought, moving to kiss him back, body still against the wall to maintain his balance. Baekhyun must have sensed his uneasiness to move, pushing his body against Jongin’s, hands around him, touching the wall.

Jongin held his waist with a hand, touching the raspy glitter dress. The warmness of his body was a delightful feeling and Jongin liked the soft kiss, too.

Baekhyun broke the kiss and smiled at him,

“You’re different than I thought,” he whispered. “Lighter.”

And kissed Jongin for real, tongue and teeth, leaving him breathless.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chanyeol found him lying on the car, looking at the sky. Jongin wasn’t sure of how long he had been there, but he smoked one joint and he was experimenting a weird calmness.

“Hello,” Chanyeol said, drinking a bottle of water. “Why didn’t you come back? I was worried.”

“I wanted to be outside for a while,” Jongin said. “In the city… I can’t leave home like this.”

“Of course,” Chanyeol chuckled. He didn’t look tired. “Sometimes I forget you’re famous. How’s your leg, baby?”

“Okay,” Jongin lied. It was hurting since he was standing without the crutches before, but he could handle it. “I want to go home.”

“Let me pee the alcohol out,” Chanyeol started walking around. The groups were still there, but no one seemed to mind Chanyeol peeing near a tiny bush. Jongin stared at Chanyeol’s back, the crack of his ass flashing out of the low pants, and found that absolutely hilarious.

“What’s the fun on that,” Chanyeol asked, turning back. He was buttoning his pants, his pubic hair still out. Jongin laughed really loud.

“You’re stoned, aren’t you,” Chanyeol sighed, walking to him. “I thought your eyes were red from crying.”

Jongin was still laughing.

“Get off my car,” Chanyeol held his arm. “Let’s go back home. Jongdae is going to fucking kill me if he gets to see you like that.”

Jongin held on Chanyeol and stood with the help of his crutches. He needed to lay down. He was sleepy and hungry. Lethargic. 

“I sucked dick,” he whispered to Chanyeol, giggling. Chanyeol wasn’t moved by that. He put Jongin on the seat and fixed the seatbelt.

“You certainly had a better night than me,” Chanyeol smiled and then closed the door. Jongin never felt so light on his life. He repeated to no one, alone in the car for a minute. The words tasted like freedom.

Chanyeol got inside the car and stared at him, amused.

“I’m glad you had a fun night,” he said. “But please let’s make it our secret.”

“I never said I sucked dick out loud,” Jongin confessed.

“Where exactly you would say such a thing,” Chanyeol snorted.

Jongin slept on the way home and when he woke up, he was in the middle of the stairs. Chanyeol was singing happily and carrying Jongin effortlessly.

“I feel like a bride,” Jongin yawned.

“Does it feel good?” Chanyeol smiled. “I go to the gym to get strong to carry cute boys.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Jongin closed his eyes. “It makes me feel like I’m useless.”

“Brides aren’t useless,” Chanyeol pointed. “You’re not useless.”

Jongin didn’t answer. He walked home as soon as his feet touched the ground; he was alone and opening the door to no one made him feel like shit. He stood by the door and the euphoria of seconds before just vanished like he didn’t have fun at all.

“Are you okay?” Chanyeol asked. “I can take you to your bed. Or are you hungry? Of course, you’re hungry, you’re high as shit. Do you want…”

Jongin let his body fall on the couch – his leg hurt a little. He thought about Kyungsoo’s home and his kitchen, the glass jars with white stickers, the bowls with fresh fruits, the balcony and the windy room, where he could read books like there was no world outside. He felt stuck, in a forgotten place, where he didn’t want to be, wasting time locked everywhere but where he belonged.

“I hate this place,” Jongin said and his voice broke; he was about to cry.

Chanyeol was standing in the door, looking at him. His face was unreadable for a moment. He put his hands on his waist and sighed.

“Do you think I can give you a piggyback?”

Jongin blinked.

“Yes,” he mumbled.

“Good,” Chanyeol walked to him and squatted like a kid. “Get on my back.”

Jongin didn’t ask questions.

 

 

 

Chanyeol’s home was just next to theirs. It was bigger and had dozens of random objects, souvenirs, boxes, and shoes around. He had more furniture and things hanging on the wall and his fridge was covered with post-it's and magnets. He had traveled the world, Jongin thought, looking at the names, pictures, and souvenirs.

“Ok,” Chanyeol put him on the chair. “I’ve got something here, I guess. Leftovers… oh, yeah, snacks. Do you drink soda?”

“Yes,” Jongin said politely.

“Amazing,” Chanyeol smiled. “I’ll make some fries for you.”

Jongin took his crutches and inspected the details. He found Chanyeol’s family pictures and his heart was hurting, thinking about his own family. Chanyeol had dozens of friends, people hugging him in pictures, little notes, gifts.

“Go to the balcony,” Chanyeol said, surrounded by the smell of oil. Jongin went there, opened the window and he took a long time to notice the telescope just beside him. He stared at it, afraid to touch it and stood this way until Chanyeol went in with the fries and the soda.

“Are you afraid of my baby?” He laughed. “She doesn’t bite.”

“It looks expensive,” Jongin said. “I don’t know how to use it.”

“It’s not hard to use,” he gave Jongin the food and proceeded to position the telescope. “You wouldn’t see with it… the dust cap.”

Jongin was fascinated by how professional it looked like; Chanyeol moved it and looked through, trying to make it tall enough for Jongin. They were almost the same height, but Jongin couldn’t squat like Chanyeol did, only sit in a chair. Chanyeol put in a comfortable position for him; Jongin avoided touching it with his dirty hands.

“It’s nice,” Jongin said, closing one eye to see better. “Stars.”

“They all have names and stories,” Chanyeol said, before pointing to a constellation and starting a long rant about the myth. Jongin only got half of it, mesmerized by a clear sky. He felt better now, that he had company and something to do besides reflecting about himself and his ghosts.

Chanyeol made a pillow fort to sleep, just next to his own bed.

“We could share a bed, but I’m sure I would kick your leg,” he explained. “I move a lot while sleeping.”

“I can sleep at my own bed,” Jongin complained.

“No,” Chanyeol kept adding blankets. “I know you’re feeling like shit. I wouldn’t let a friend alone like that. You know, friends won’t fix your problems, but maybe chatting a little can help.”

“I have a therapist,” Jongin argued.

“Do you tell them you suck dick?” Chanyeol turned to him, serious.

Jongin just stared.

“Therapy doesn’t work like that,” Chanyeol moved again, helping Jongin to move to his bed. “It’s not like chatting with a friend. It’s different.”

Jongin sat on the bed, barefoot. His feet were dirty and so was he. Chanyeol couldn’t care less, taking his shirt off and jumping on the pillow fort. Jongin lied down and stared at the ceiling, listening to the other moving between pillows and blankets.

“I can’t see you,” Chanyeol said. “When you feel like leaving, the door is open.”

“Thank you,” Jongin said. “You’re… you’re nice.”

Jongin didn’t want to compare, but none of his friends would do that for him. They were busy because they had interesting things to do. No one would take care of him or try to help him unless Jongin was hit by a car.

“It’s not even a metaphor,” he mumbled.

“Nothing is a metaphor if you try enough,” Chanyeol said.

“I feel uncomfortable,” he said. “Everywhere. All the time. Like I want to run away but there is no place for me, like ever.”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol’s voice sounded sincere. “I guess I understand.”

“It’s ridiculous. I have a home. I have my parents’ house. My sisters’. I can rent this place. Yet I don’t feel good. Anywhere,” Jongin closed his eyes. “I don’t have a job anymore. I hate the sax. I don’t have anything to call mine except a bunch of material things that can’t help me. It seems like everyone knows what they want but me.”

“You don’t know what you want?” Chanyeol asked. “I thought you wanted to feel okay again.”

Jongin didn’t answer. He couldn’t picture that scenario, no matter how hard he tried. The silence took too long and Chanyeol broke it,

“Sometimes I think we want both things at the same time. I want to be alone but I also want to have a lot of friends. I want to go outside but I also want to compose. I want to be in love but I don’t want to be stuck with someone,” he said. “I guess we’re just… never content.”

“I want to go back,” Jongin said. “I want to be the person I was two years ago. I want to go back home and be happy to be with my family. I want him back. I want to want things I could have. I want to never want too much again.”

“These are all things you can’t have,” Chanyeol snorted. “The future is always more interesting. Who would like to be in the past? The past is boring. It’s over.”

Jongin opened his eyes.

“I guess I just made the most Sagittarius rant ever,” Chanyeol laughed. “But yeah. Did you get it?”

“I’m not a Sagittarius,” Jongin said. “I hate the future. I hate things that change.”

“Boring,” Chanyeol complained. “It’s like reading the same book over and over again.”

Jongin thought about it.

“What’s your favorite book?” He asked.

“Never finished a book, like, ever. Okay, I did, but I don’t remember the last time I read one… for real,” Chanyeol said. “But I loved reading ‘The Catcher in the Rye'.”

“Why?” Jongin moved in the bed and grabbed a blanket.

“I don’t know,” Chanyeol said. “I just remember it made sense. Do you like books?”

“Yes,” Jongin said. “More than music.”

“More than sucking dick?”

Jongin exploded in laughter.

“I only sucked two dicks in my life,” Jongin confessed. “And the second was today.”

“Oh, god. It was Baekhyun’s, wasn’t it? You sucked a guy in Drag. Is that a kink?”

“Not sure,” Jongin said.

“I’ll try that someday,” Chanyeol yawned. “Think about the fact that if your life wasn’t shit… you wouldn’t be here. You would never suck the second dick.”

“That’s a nice perspective,” Jongin said dryly. “I just had to almost die.”

“I’m ready to die for some good dick.”

Jongin laughed again.

“Good night, Jonginnie.”

“Good night, Chanyeollie.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jongin woke up early.

“The meds,” he said. The morning medicine, he repeated, getting out of bed. Chanyeol was sleeping on the pillow fort, mouth open, drooling. Jongin noticed more tattoos on his body, but he didn’t stop to stare. He went home the fast he could with his crutches – except that he avoided them when he climbed the small stairs between their houses. He forgot his shoes, but not the keys, so he surprised Jongdae when he went in.

“Oh, good, you’re alive,” Jongdae sighed.

“Hello,” a girl sitting on the couch said. “Are you Jongin?”

He stood in the middle of the room. The coffee’s smell was strong and Jongdae was using pajamas; the girl was using his shirt. He looked at her and bowed.

“Nice to meet you,” he said.

“Did you take your morning med?” Jongdae asked. “Let me grab you a cup of water.”

He was still staring at the girl, who was blonde and really small. She was pretty, in the most convenient way and Jongin felt dirty and disgusting again.

“No,” he mumbled. “I’ll go to my room.”

“Nice hickey,” she said.

 

 

 

 

Her name was Taeyeon. She was going to stay for a while since Jongdae was going to take the morning shift.

She joined Jongdae’s distracted singing and Jongin sat at the door, listening to them. He held his phone, took a long breath and finally read the message.

 

_Hello, Jongin. I was wondering if I could visit you. I understand if you don’t answer this message. I hope you’re getting better. Kyungsoo._

 Jongin threw up his breakfast and his morning medicine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Taeyeon’s presence was the best thing he could ask for. She had a tiny dog, Zero, that liked to sit on Jongin’s lap; she enjoyed playing cards and dragged Minseok and Chanyeol to play with them, refusing to take Jongdae as a partner to play any game, which was hilarious. The house was suddenly full of noise and people and somehow, that made Jongin’s bad thoughts disappear for a while.

Every night they would sit to play and Jongin would sit at the couch, petting zero and watching them.

“Please take your boyfriend back,” Chanyeol pleaded. He was using a baggy white shirt with a concert name and date on it; his hair was now white, instead of silver. “I hate to play with people who don’t want to win.”

Jongdae just laughed, rubbing his socks on Chanyeol’s bare feet.

“He’s the worst,” Taeyeon said. She didn’t care about being surrounded by men and she was using pajamas too. “I don’t play games with him.”

“Jonginnie,” Minseok sang. “Don’t you wanna play this time?”

“No,” Jongin smiled. “Zero needs someone to pet him.”

“He’s using you,” Taeyeon argued. “You’re too nice, Jongin.”

“I need someone to pet me,” Minseok said. “Let’s finish this game, so I can go home to my cat.”

“Your cat can’t pet you,” Chanyeol said. “I can.”

“I don’t want you in my house,” Minseok said defensively, staring at the cards over the table. “You don’t want to pet me, you want something else.”

Everybody at the table laughed. Jongin giggled a bit, hiding his face.

“You’re missing an opportunity,” Chanyeol said.

“Ah,” Minseok shrugged. “I’ll pass.”

“Do you have someone new, Minseok?” Taeyeon teased. “Poor Chanyeol.”

“You guys can take me in,” Chanyeol waved his eyebrows. “I have no problem with sharing.”

Jongdae seemed disgusted.

“Why do I let you inside my house,” he mumbled. “Taeyeon, don’t laugh.”

“Jongin,” she asked. “Does Chanyeol terrorize you too?”

Jongin smiled.

“No,” he said. “He’s actually very respectful. Every time I sleep on his house, he sleeps on the floor.”

They seemed impressed. Minseok took his old mug and raised it.

“Ah,” Chanyeol said. “I don’t mess with a guy like Jongin. He looks like he could break my heart if I try.”

 

 

 

Taeyeon left and took Zero with her. Jongin wasn’t that sad. He went to Minseok’s apartment to play with his cat; he used Chanyeol’s telescope; he listened to Jongdae’s singing when they were both at home. If he didn’t have physio and therapy, he could call it a vacation.

His old life knocked on his door on a holiday. It could be a great day – the boys wanted to go out to eat and Jongin could pretend he wasn’t a prisoner… but when he walked out of his room in the morning, holding the morning med in his hand, he faced Soojung.

“I thought you were using crutches,” she said, unbothered, sitting on the couch like it was a magazine’s photoshoot.

Jongdae shot him an apologetic look.

“She said she’s your friend,” he whispered. “So, I offered coffee.”

“You should have warned me you were coming,” Jongin sighed.

“Why?” She frowned.

“Forget it,” Jongin went to pick his water. Jongdae tried to keep a conversation, but he didn’t know that Soojung could be the most evasive person on earth.

“That’s a nice house,” she said, walking around on her high heels. “You also look good Jongin. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

“Where’s Taemin?” Jongin asked.

“Busy,” she said simply. “He sent things to you. It’s in your parent’s house.”

“How are you?” He asked. Jongdae left to his room, afraid that he wasn’t invited to their conversation.

“I’m fine,” she pushed her hair back. She hadn’t changed at all. “I was worried about you.”

“I’m thankful,” he said, annoyed. “You can leave now.”

Soojung stared at him for long, long seconds.

“I’m sorry if I came in a bad time, Jongin,” she said, standing up. “I just wanted to check if you were okay. You know I’ll care about you forever.”

He rubbed his face.

“I’ll call you,” he promised. “When I feel better.”

“That’s not what I’m here for,” she spat before leaving.

 

 

 

 

 

Jongdae left the room to hit Jongin with the crutches.

“Don’t walk around like that,” he said and Jongin smiled, thinking that he waited to say so, to not embarrass Jongin.

“I love you,” Jongin told him. Jongdae softened a bit.

“Is she your ex?” He asked cautiously.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “But it was a long time ago. We were kids. She’s my friend now.”

“You only have really pretty friends,” he said, thoughtful. “That’s disturbing.”

“She’s mad at me,” Jongin confessed.

Jongdae went back to his routine: cleaning and singing.

“Why?”

“She doesn’t like to be treated like a superficial person,” he explained. “She’s deep.”

Jongdae laughed like Jongin told a joke.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing,” Jongdae gave him a cup of hot chocolate. “Why did you two break up?”

Jongin stared at his own feet and his ‘Frozen’ socks. Another failure, the past is back. He wanted to go back to his room and close the door. He wished a hundred times to marry Soojung and be just like his parents. To want that.

“I didn’t love her like that,” Jongin said. “Like that, you know?”

“Like… in a romantic way?” Jongdae was confused. “Sexual way?”

“No,” Jongin sighed. “It’s hard to explain.”

“I doubt it,” Jongdae said. “But you don’t have to share.”

“I didn’t want her,” Jongin searched for a hundred explanations on his mind. “Like Kyungsoo wanted that star.”

Jongdae stared at him.

“Who’s Kyungsoo?”

 

 

 

 

 

Chanyeol didn’t allow him to stay in his bed all day.

“Come on,” Chanyeol said, walking in loudly. “Let’s have fun!”

Jongin moved in bed, yawning. He was in the last chapter of his book and his leg wasn’t hurting; the day outside was foggy and warm, so he wasn’t exactly moved to walk around and ruin the rest of his day. Chanyeol had now a pink hair, his dark roots were no longer showing up. He was sweating and not tired, so he was probably back from the Gym.

“No,” Jongin said.

“Let’s go, Jonginnie,” he sang, picking Jongin’s converse. “I’ll pick Minseok at the university and I’ll take a few documents to my mom. I was thinking that maybe we could stay for a concert. A group just bought a song of mine and I want to see them performing.”

“Are you composing again?” Jongin smiled.

“No, it’s an old song,” Chanyeol sighed. “And they’re a small group, but I don’t mind. I need company.”

“I’m not a nice company,” Jongin said.

“What?” Chanyeol snorted. “You’re absolutely funny… and I got to say, a bit crazy.”

“I’m the boring-est person in the universe?” Jongin was… confused.

“Really?” Chanyeol crossed his arms. “You’re my famous friend who survived? You’re like Harry Potter, but Ginny is a Drag.”

Jongin laughed genuinely, almost hitting his head on the wall. Chanyeol was satisfied.

“You’re the one who’s funny,” Jongin stretched his arms. “But yeah. Let’s go.”

 

 

Jongin was almost used to Chanyeol’s car. Jongdae drove him to physio a few times, sometimes Chanyeol himself drove Jongin. Jongin already knew the playlists by heart.

“Do you trust everyone like that?” Jongin asked, checking Chanyeol’s bags. “I can see your pants here.”

“Only my friends,” Chanyeol said, laughing. “What’s the point of living if you don’t share?”

“Some friends become enemies,” Jongin said, serious. “Like Lex Luthor.”

Chanyeol snorted.

“Do you say things like that to your therapist? Is that what you’re afraid of?”

“No,” Jongin threw the bag on the backseat. “My therapist said I refuse to let things go and I don’t mourn them. She thinks I won’t play the Sax again.”

Chanyeol drove in silence for a while.

“What do you think?” He asked. “Do you agree?”

Jongin shrugged.

“Do you like therapy?” Chanyeol sounded a bit worried. “You don’t have to love every professional, you see. It’s just like any other service. Sometimes it takes time to find the person who gets you.”

“She reminds me of my best friend, Sehun. She says things I don’t want to hear.”

“I would like to meet this guy. I need someone like that…”

“He’s not around,” Jongin said, sighing. “None of my friends are. They have things to do, they are chasing… things… and I’m here.”

Stuck.

“That’s adult life,” Chanyeol says dryly. “People grow up and they… focus on their own goals. That’s not bad. You’re living your life too.”

“I hate this,” Jongin said. “I hate people leaving.”

“They come and go,” Chanyeol argued. “Sometimes you don’t see the stars but they’re there.”

“That sounds like a song. Are you sure you’re not composing?”

“I guess writers are always writing.”

 

 

 

They went to a bar after rescuing Jongdae from a Bank, where he was overdressed and bored. It was warm enough that Jongin could eat an ice-cream and the boys could drink beers. It was a tiny, small bar, with ridiculous prices and plastic chairs; Jongin realized, in silence, that he never went to such a cheap place. Yet, he was having fun. They made Jongdae sing and Minseok introduced them to some group of loud friends that made them laugh. Jongin leaned on the chair and smelled the fresh air, enjoyed his messy hair, his flip-flops and the easy feeling of not impressing anyone.

 

[Soojung, eating crepe inside of the hotel, once said, “If you’re not happy in Paris, you won’t be happy anywhere. It’s not the place. It’s how you feel.”]

 

Chanyeol asked for another beer and one of the lights turned off suddenly; only one side of his face was illuminated, his Adam’s apple moving while he drank, his arm shining while flexing. Jongin really liked Chanyeol. He was effortlessly nice and smart, generous and funny. He was attractive too, but in this friendly way that didn’t intimidate anyone.

Chanyeol looked at him.

“Ah, my bad,” he smiled. “Do you want a beer?”

Jongin shook his head.

“Is there something on my face…?”

“You have a pretty face,” Jongin said. “That’s it.”

Chanyeol smiled brighter, dimple on display. Jongin held his hand under the table and kept drinking water. One of Minseok’s friends made a joke and Jongin spat water on Chanyeol’s arm.

They stared at each other and laughed loudly.

 

 

 

 .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I shortened the original chapters because this story isn't easy to read or swallow. I hope there's someone out there truly reading this. Hello!


	4. VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He waited for some revelation.
> 
> Something that made him feel alive.
> 
> A sign.
> 
> Anything, really.
> 
> “You’re the one who needs to give meaning to things,” she said, reading his frustration. “Those things don’t come when you’re waiting for them, also.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's always bittersweet to share this story, but I was so glad ppl liked... well, mind the tags

 

**CHAPTER VII – THE NIGHTS FULL OF STARS**

**.**

 

 

Jongin put the cereal and frozen fruits before adding milk. Jongdae finished his coffee and turned the page. Minseok, who was hiding from a mouse that Tan was catching inside his house, drank more coffee while fixing his oversized pants.

“It’s getting cold today,” Jongdae said. “Isn’t it too early?”

“It’s the rain,” Minseok looked through the window. “It’s not really cold.”

Jongdae checked his phone.

“Where’s Taeyeon,” he sighed, impatient. “Are your friends going to pick you here?”

“I guess,” Jongin nodded. “But not now.”

Every time Chanyeol traveled overseas, the time went slower. He wasn’t screaming or dragging them to places, they weren’t forced to play games or buy food. The book Jongin was reading the day before didn’t catch his attention and he wanted to buy more books. The one on his table reeked of his old place.

“I want to buy a book,” he announced. “Is there a bookstore around?”

“Yes,” Jongdae said. “I can take you there when I get a night shift again.”

Jongin ate his breakfast and opened Chanyeol’s pics. He kept sending them, no matter how late, since he was on the other side of the world.

“I think I’ll go to L.A. too when my leg heals,” he mumbled. “During summer.”

“Are you missing Chanyeol?” Jongdae asked, smiling. “The place is quieter without him.”

“Yeah,” Jongin nodded and he stared at the empty bowl, facing his reflection. He looked… like a mess. “Do you have time to help me dress? I want to put on skinny jeans.”

“That’s not the best choice for your leg,” Jongdae sighed, but Jongin’s face convinced him. “Well, fine. Let’s go.”

It had been a while since Jongin used his make-up bag, but he didn’t want his friends to know how he looked like on meds. He barely had purple marks on his body anymore and his hair was getting longer again, long enough for him to push it back.

“You look good, Jongin,” Minseok said.

“Thank you, hyung,” he smiled. “Now go write your thesis.”

 

Going out with his friends was… tiring. Seulgi picked him up in her car and Sehun was with her. They drove for too long and Jongin had to use his crutches while walking. He didn’t drink or told them about his life. Jimin also came, late and tired, just to hug Jongin.

He called Chanyeol when he got home, after climbing the stairs.

“It took thirty minutes, but I didn’t fall,” he told Chanyeol. “I’m a grown-up boy.”

“Try to do it while drunk,” Chanyeol laughed. “You’re already walking, so…”

Jongin giggled.

“What do you want from L.A?” He asked. “I can bring a gift.”

“Just come back soon,” Jongin pleaded. “I miss you.”

“Awn… That’s okay. I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

 

 

He took almost two days to come back and wake Jongin up in the middle of the night. Jongdae was exhausted and didn’t leave his room. Minseok wasn’t at home – so Jongin was his only victim.

“Brought you sunglasses,” Chanyeol gave him a box. “Try on!”

Jongin sat on his bed and put the sunglasses in the dark room.

“Nice,” he mumbled, taking them off. “ Thank you. I really like it…”

He stared at Chanyeol standing next to the bed, light shirt and blonde hair. His skin was probably tanned and shining if only there was a light to see it better. Jongin moved on the bed and tapped it.

“Sleep here,” he asked. “Please.”

Chanyeol sat on the bed, took his expensive sandals off and took his place next to Jongin. He was smelling like sand and plastic.

“You should come with me next time,” Chanyeol said, his heavy voice alone in the dark room. “You would have fun, Jonginnie.”

Jongin touched his face and his raspy chin; twelve hours in a plane and he was still sounding so excited about things. Jongin leaned in and kissed his mouth – Chanyeol said nothing, but his fast breathing was audible.

“Why did you do that?” He whispered.

“Because I wanted to,” Jongin answered. “I like you.”

 

 

 

Chanyeol didn’t kick anything while sleeping, though he cuddled constantly. And drooled. A lot.

He always forgot the tv on and food around, which made the cats jump to his house and the ants to invade everything. He had a system with sound boxes and there was always music playing. When they had sex in the living room, where the window was always open, Jongin had chills from the wind and the view.

Chanyeol stood naked everywhere, with his tattoos out. Jongin couldn’t find logic in them or the body parts where they were placed, but he liked them anyway.

“Are you sure you’re not forcing your leg?” Chanyeol asked elegantly as if Jongin wasn’t sitting on his dick.

“Only my thighs,” Jongin said, pressing him down on the couch, the clothes and magazines on the corner, folded messily.

Chanyeol jerked him off lazily, with one hand and his really long fingers. He did everything effortlessly, playfully, from his open-mouthed kisses to his deep thrusts. He didn’t have any pride to hide and he also allowed Jongin to do whatever he wanted, barely questioning.

He stole Chanyeol’s books to read. Chanyeol didn’t mind.

 

 

 

 

Jongdae didn’t mention it, not even when it was obvious. When they took Jongdae to work, Jongin would normally seat in the backseat, but Jongdae just sat there that day and watched how Chanyeol touched Jongin’s legs when they stopped at the red lights, how Jongin controlled the playlist and chose the songs by heart and how they would look at each other.

“Please give those clothes back to Taeyeon,” he mumbled, distracted. “She needs them.”

“I told you we will do it,” Chanyeol said, driving fast.

“You can forget, you’re distracted,” he said, implying something but never explaining it.

Jongin didn’t like hospitals – it reminded him of his physio – so he was glad to find out that Taeyeon worked in a News Agency. Jongin walked in, intrigued and scared; it was like seeing the other side of his life. Taeyeon was still small and funny; she invited them to stay and look around. Chanyeol, who rarely refused those kinds of experiences, talked to every soul there. Jongin sat next to her and made no questions until he listened to someone talking about Michelin stars.

“… the maximum is three stars,” it was a woman. “Whoever sent me this, couldn’t they at least google search? They’re anonymous, so…”

Taeyeon noticed Jongin’s interest.

“Do you like culinary?” She smiled. “I just found out that those Michelin stars are from the same Michelin tire guy, you know? It’s _that_ Michelin.”

Jongin knew it, but he smiled anyway.

“I like to know about… those things,” Jongin lied. “Are there new restaurants with stars?”

“Wait for a second,” she stood up. “Seungwan!”

A girl popped next to her table. She was holding papers and a phone, a bit confused.

“What’s going on about the stars?”

“New restaurants got one and two stars,” she said simply. “We still only got one restaurant in the whole country with three stars and the interns sent me an article talking like we had no excellent restaurant because they thought the maximum was five.”

“Do you know the chefs’ names?” Jongin asked suddenly.

She stared at him and picked the paper. Her button-up shirt was pearl silk and her hair was combed. Like the to-do lists on the wall, the people walking around laughing and getting coffee, every detail made him a bit more foreigner.

“Hm,” she checked the email. “One or two stars?”

“One,” he said in a tiny voice.

“Kim Dohyung, Do Kyungsoo, Park Kyungjae, and Lee Chong Hoo, who’s the youngest chef here to helm a Michelin star,” she read and then stared at Jongin, waiting for an explanation.

“That’s okay,” Taeyeon waved her hand dismissively. “Sorry for interrupting.”

“Thank you,” Jongin said, smiling politely. He could hear Chanyeol laughing somewhere else.

“You’re a box of surprises,” Taeyeon touched his nose, amused. “Do you want some coffee?”

He mumbled a little ‘yes, noona’ and the word got distant as if he wasn’t the one saying it.

 

 

 

 

 

At night, Chanyeol played a few songs to Jongin. They were soft and Chanyeol’s singing voice was surprisingly sweet. They ate ice cream and used the telescope, this time sitting on the floor. Jongin’s leg was almost healed, but still too weak. He looked at Chanyeol’s body, naked and free, with his funny legs and big ears, feet, and hands and felt suddenly dumb about being conscious about his own body. Chanyeol was really pretty being himself and Jongin wouldn’t change anything on him, at all. He looked up and thought that maybe someone felt this way about him.

“We shouldn’t have smoked that thing,” Chanyeol said, his cheek dirty with ice-cream. He was talking to himself, mostly. Jongin was suddenly grateful for that moment – for Chanyeol’s telescope, for the ice cream, for being healthy enough to do that, for being alive, for the stars…

 

[He went to Paris for the first time with Soojung after they graduated. Jongin waited for months to travel; he wanted to taste adulthood, to be alone with his girlfriend in that place where he dreamed to be since he was a child.

He waited for some revelation.

Something that made him feel alive.

A sign.

Anything, really.

“You’re the one who needs to give meaning to things,” she said, reading his frustration. “Those things don’t come when you’re waiting for them, also.”]

 

Now, he could put meaning in small things. Before, when he was so helplessly infatuated when he was hit by a car, the revelation was there, but he couldn’t see it.

“I think my accident was a good thing,” Jongin mumbled, but it wasn’t audible since he sneezed. Chanyeol frowned.

“Put some clothes on and no more ice-cream for you,” he sighed. “Come on, you can’t get sick.”

He abandoned his ice-cream bucket and picked a huge blanket to cover Jongin.

“It’s soft,” Jongin said and he stood up on his own and walked to Chanyeol’s bed. He was already used to sleep there and now Chanyeol felt comfortable to share, to let their bodies close, to snuggle lazily. Jongin covered himself like a burrito and closed his eyes. It wasn’t his place, but oh, he could stay for a while.

 

 

He woke up to Jongdae staring at him, which was more confusing than embarrassing.

“Chanyeol told me you were sneezing,” he said and gave Jongin a warm bowl. “You can’t get sick.”

Jongin yawned, stretching.

“I’m not dying,” he complained a bit before taking the bowl. “But thank you… you shouldn’t have…”

“I kind of want to talk to you too,” Jongdae said. “Now that Chanyeol left.”

Jongin was entertained by the tasty soup. He didn’t know Jongdae could cook something like that.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m listening.”

Jongdae sighed and looked to the door before saying anything. His brown hair was messy and his clothes were old and soft as most things that he liked to wear. There was a calming trait that made everything about him warm and harmless; Jongin noticed that it helped to create that atmosphere. Back at his home, he was surrounded by aggressive, strong people that fitted the big city and the competitive business. Jongin held the bowl against his chest.

“Don’t get too attached to Chanyeol,” he asked simply. “He’s volatile. He gets tired of people and then he just… you know, wanders.”

Jongin stared. He was used to Jongdae treating him like a kid, but it was different. It was an adults’ conversation.

“I know,” he frowned. “It’s not like the other people in my life haven’t done the same.”

“I’m just saying it because… you don’t know him very well,” Jongdae continued calmly. “Chanyeol is a good person, he has a big heart… and he’s someone you can trust, but… not all the time. He’s… a person of cycles. Like his hobbies? Or his passions. They end and he’s okay with it.”

Jongin thought that was hilarious because Jongdae hardly knew about the therapy talk. He was normally sleeping or doing something important and Jongin didn’t feel like sharing his deep fears with someone living such a busy life.

“He let things go,” he agreed. “That’s a prerogative, actually.”

“Well, you can say so,” Jongdae said. “Did you like my soup?”

“Very much,” Jongin smiled.

“Good,” Jongdae tapped his leg. “Your friend is in our living room.”

“What friend?”

“An old friend,” he said. “I mean, he didn’t introduce himself. He’s kind of mysterious.”

Jongin’s heart almost stopped beating. His hands got cold and sweaty as if he didn’t just finish a bowl of soup – he was used to this feeling and it was always related to one specific person. He thought about not going, for a long second.

“You’re pale,” Jongdae asked, and he was sincerely surprised to see Jongin like this. “Are you… feeling okay?”

“I’m not sure if I can go there,” Jongin tried to say with a stable voice. “I’m not ready yet.”

Jongin had those small fantasies about meeting Kyungsoo while he was recovered, healed and looking amazingly better, which, he figured, was probably a basic response after being dumped.

“But he said he’s your best friend,” Jongdae frowned. “That you two worked together…”

Jongin blinked.

“Oh,” the relief inundated him. “It’s Taemin, isn’t it?”

“I guess,” Jongdae stood up. “I know he’s famous, but I… don’t have social media or TV, so…”

“I truly envy you,” Jongin said and accepted his help to get out of the bed. He was so used to the stairs now that he even skipped a step or two. Jongdae didn’t approve it, but that made Jongin feel a sense of freedom. Taemin was sitting on the couch, body relaxed, careless, looking at the window.

“It’s a weirdly nice view,” he said simply, not staring at Jongin. “You can hear the birds…”

“Nice to see you too,” Jongin announced and he expected it to come out dryly but it was his regular voice. “It’s been a while.”

Taemin turned to him slowly.

“You look good,” he smiled brightly as always. “I’ve missed you.”

Jongin felt peaceful again.

“You really do melt my anger,” he sighed, getting rid of the crutches as soon as Jongdae left the room. He was about to sit down when Taemin stopped him to move the mug with hot coffee out of the way.

“You never change,” Taemin said and sipped a bit. “You need to look before you sit down. I bet that’s why you were hit by a car.”

Jongin let his body fall, mostly because he was genuinely taken aback by his friend’s words.

“You don’t think I tried to kill myself.”

Taemin made a face that translated his disbelief but also, his amusement at the statement.

“Of course not,” he snorted. “That’s overdramatic even for you.”

“Thanks,” Jongin said with his whole heart, arms extended for a hug. Taemin hugged him, of course.

“You would take a bunch of sleeping pills,” Taemin whispered. “That’s you would do.”

“Stop sounding so creep,” Jongin rubbed his face on Taemin’s shirt. “Why didn’t you come to visit me sooner?”

“Well, let me see,” he showed his weirdly small hand, counting. “First, you were a mess of meds and wasn’t even remembering to be awake. Then after, you were basically in bed and in pain and I couldn’t do anything to help you and I would become sad only from seeing it. But now you’re healthy enough to have a conversation and still sad enough to piss Soojung off, so I guess this is my time to arrive.”

Jongin wanted to laugh.

“That’s a lot of thought you put into it.”

“I like to overthink,” Taemin kept his smile on his face and it made Jongin better just from looking at it. “Wanna talk about things?”

“No,” Jongin was horrified. “I don’t want to talk anymore. Just… do it. Your voice makes me calm.”

“I have a new pet,” Taemin started, his head leaning on the couch.

 

 

 

Jongdae left while Taemin was there, but he came back home to find Jongin alone on the couch. There was no sign of Chanyeol or Minseok in their respective places and Jongin felt asleep after Taemin left. When he woke up, there was no food. Instead of calling the delivery, he picked a book and waited for Jongdae.

“I’m hungry,” he announced.

The nurse stopped by the door and threw his bag on the floor.

“That’s okay,” he checked his watch. He was using a bright green shirt that Jongin never saw before and it didn’t look like something he owned at all. “It’s still early. I promised I would take you to a bookstore, didn’t I?”

Jongin himself almost forgot it.

“Yes…”

“There’s a nice coffee place around with books and… things like that,” he mumbled. “I will take a bath and we can go.”

“If you’re tired, I can call a delivery,” Jongin said, sensing something wrong. “Really.”

“That’s okay,” Jongdae smiled weakly. “I won’t get any sleep tonight, I think. At least I get distracted.”

Jongin waited patiently. He tried to look less sick, at least. Jongdae came back and helped him to face the stairs; they took Chanyeol’s car keys. While Jongdae was adjusting the seat and the mirrors so it was comfortable for him to drive, he found a pack of condoms. He threw in the back, using the tip of his fingers, and Jongin didn’t say a word – his face was burning in embarrassment. Jongdae, as always, said nothing.

“If he took the Vespa, he must have been in a hurry,” Jongdae said absently, driving slowly as always.

“He didn’t tell me where he was going,” Jongin said quickly, holding his crutches. Jongdae waves a hand dismissively and his face was a portrait of tiredness. “Is everything okay…?”

“Not really,” Jongdae sighed and then, there was only silence.

Jongin felt useless.

“I know we don’t share much,” he used his tiny voice, “but you can tell me anything if you want.”

Jongdae nodded, eyes on the road.

“It’s nothing much. Someone died today.”

Jongin stared and said nothing.

“I mean, it’s a hospital… people die there often,” he sighed. “But today it was a child. It bothers me to see kids dying. It doesn’t feel right. I mean, we’re adults and… there’s no right moment to die, of course, but I don’t know. Dying is natural. A kid, however…”

He didn’t sound too sad. He sounded tired and defeated, Jongin concluded. He imagined how hard it must have been to see people dying every day, to get used to pain and illnesses and he was hit with that feeling of curiosity, that desire of being under someone’s else skin.

“I’m sorry,” Jongin said.

“That’s okay,” Jongdae shrugged. “We all tried our best and this is just another day, I think. Driving helps.”

“Ah, I see,” Jongin said. He was hungry and tired, but suddenly it all seemed small compared to his friend’s problems – as always.

“I don’t drink, smoke and I’m taken so the best next thing is sugar,” Jongdae smiled. “So I guess I’ll get lots of donuts for dinner.”

A strong memory hit Jongin.

“I know exactly how you feel,” he said, realizing the similarities.

 

The bookstore and the Donut place were just hidden between stores that Jongin had noticed, but somehow, he missed them. He used his crutches to walk there since Jongdae was strict about it. He went to the bookstore first, because he liked how cozy it looked like, with a wooden entry and lots of lights inside. There were people sitting, reading and some workers using green aprons over their clothes. No one stared at him and Jongin realized they sold albums there, so it was satisfying to walk around without being noticed.

He searched for the magazines, trying to read his own name in any of them. He didn’t find any news related to him and he counted in his fingers, measuring the right time for people to forget.

“Two months and twelve days,” he mumbled to no one. “It’s almost autumn.”

He grabbed a handful of random books and paid for them. The girl on the counter stared at him curiously after reading the name on his credit card but didn’t ask him anything. Jongin forgot how people in the countryside were polite and private with strangers.

Before he left the store, he read the notes on the glass door. He took one and went to meet Jongdae.

“Got you nutritional things,” Jongdae said, shaking the menu. He was sitting by the door, alone, while the other tables were full of couples and teenagers. “Chanyeol called me, he’s coming.”

Jongin smiled, relieved to know someone would help to carry the books. Jongdae was drinking coffee already and he looked less tired.

“So, just like I thought,” he said, smiling archly. “You thought that your friend was actually that person you’re still in love with.”

“Well, that’s obvious,” Jongin said, putting his new books in a pile on the table. “Did you only notice now?”

“I just confirmed,” he moves his shoulders, unbothered. “Because I really expected you to be more excited about Chanyeol coming.”

Jongin was a bit disappointed.

“Why do you think I’m such a victim…” he mumbled. “You don’t have to protect me from Chanyeol. You talk like he’s a predator or something.”

Jongdae thought about it, moving his head slowly.

“Yes. I think I was prejudicial, but… I’m not used to people as free as he is,” he explained and it was so quick for him to admit his mistake that Jongin was impressed. “I’m overly attached. I couldn’t deal with a person like him. But of course, you don’t care about this since you love someone else. It was a misjudgment.”

Jongin stared at him, smiling.

“Thank you,” he said. “But I’m in this situation because I’m also overly attached. The thing is that I can’t simply stop living just because someone rejected me. I mean, not anymore.”

“I know,” Jongdae nodded. “You’re truly a brave person, Jongin.”

“Do you think so?” Jongin asked, almost tearing apart a book cover; his fingers were restless. “I don’t see that.”

“You don’t give yourself much credit,” Jongdae bopped his nose. “You’re really strong. Look at how much you have been going through and you still don’t give up. You’re resisting and this is remarkable.”

Jongin looked at the note on the book.

“I’ve seen a lot of people giving up,” Jongdae said and for a moment, his eyes were lost somewhere. “But you didn’t. You’re learning and embracing new things… even if you’re not… very enthusiastic about it.”

“That’s a nice way to say I’m a petty, spoiled baby,” Jongin smiled. “But I’ll take it.”

Jongdae laughed and it was delightful to hear.

“His name is Kyungsoo and now he’s a brand new Michelin star Chef, so if he ever knocks on our door,” Jongin warned, raising a finger. “I mean _ever_ , you have to find a way to give me time to look presentable.”

“Understood,” Jongdae winked.

It was an agreeable evening and when Chanyeol arrived, they were laughing and eating donuts like two kids. He was still using the soft pants that he used to sleep and his expensive sandals.

“Good news,” he said, smiling. “I’m not jobless. I’m in the production team for a new Japanese idol group’s mini-album.”

“Congratulations,” Jongdae hugged Chanyeol happily. Jongin petted Chanyeol’s head gently and got a happy hum as a response.

“It sounds exciting,” Chanyeol clapped. “I’m leaving in a couple of days. I really want to celebrate!”

The lack of words from both of them made Chanyeol realize that something wasn’t right.

“What?” He asked, confused.

“I’m not taking the pain meds anymore, my body is hurting,” Jongin informed him as if it was the actual reason. “Actually, from now on I’ll take only take one… so I guess I need to rest to get used to it.”

“I just arrived from work,” Jongdae said and ate a donut, avoiding their eyes. “I’m sorry, Chanyeol.”

 

 

 

 

Late at night, Jongin was really bothered by how his muscles were sore. Thanks to the meds, he didn’t feel how exhausting the physio’s exercises were before, but at least he felt more awake; the meds gave him somnolence that he couldn’t break. Chanyeol was watching a video, one hand holding the phone and the other behind his head. He was dressed and covered because it was getting cold and windy lately.

Jongin moved in bed to poke Chanyeol’s bicep.

“I’ll go back to train now that I don’t need to use the crutches all the time.”

“Glad to know you’ll get to use the stairs while I’m gone,” he smiled, eyes still on the video. “But you have nice arms now.”

“I saw a note on the bookstore today,” Jongin told him. “They accept volunteers to read stories for kids. Do you think I should try to do that?”

Chanyeol finally looked at him, cheeks against the pillow, sleepy eyes.

“It sounds good. Do you want to do it?”

“Yes,” he said. “I’m not sure if I’m going to be good at it, though.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Chanyeol smiled softly. “If you feel like doing it, just do it.”

Jongin hugged him under the blanket and it helped him to relax, but he couldn’t sleep fast like Chanyeol, now that his body was missing the chemicals and facing new pains. He left the bed and went home. To his surprise, Jongdae was sitting on the couch, reading one of the books that Jongin bought.

“Ah,” Jongdae said; his eyes were red. “I’m sorry. I just picked it to distract myself…”

Jongin sat next to him, touched his socked tiny feet.

“Why didn’t you go to Taeyeon’s house? You would feel better there.”

He smiled sadly.

“I can’t throw every single sad thing that happens on her. She has her own problems.”

It bothered Jongin to hear those words. He wanted to argue that Jongdae should share his pain with his partner but… he felt like a hypocrite.

“I know,” Jongin said and pulled him into a hug. “I know.”

 

 

 

 

On the first morning with no meds, Jongin opened a bottle of wine and enjoyed being home alone. It lasted an hour since Sehun called him right when Jongin was attempting to dance with one leg only. He struggled to pick the phone, but he answered the call. It wasn’t smart to punish Sehun for what he was feeling… and listening to his friend’s voice was good, too.

“I need to cut my hair,” Jongin said, looking at his reflection on the mirror. “I need to look a bit more presentable.”

“ _Why?_ ” Sehun asked curiously.

Jongin sighed. He didn’t want to share about his plans; he wasn’t a person of secrecy, but now he was treasuring the few things he got.

“Well, to not look like I was run over by a car,” he mocked. Sehun laughed because of course, he would find that hilarious.

“ _We can have a self-care day_ ,” Sehun said. “ _Like old times.”_

“That would be nice,” Jongin said.

Because he felt a little better, he found the guts to call the bookstore and talk about the note. They felt honored that a celebrity wanted to volunteer and Jongin politely asked them not to announce him as a famous person or advertise it in any way.

“I’m… recovering from an accident,” he argued. “I would like to keep the privacy.”

“ _Oh,”_ the voice on the other side seemed confused. “ _Aren’t you going to play the sax?”_

It didn’t hurt that much this time.

“No,” he smiled slowly. “I’ll only read stories. I was thinking about ‘The Little Prince’. It would be more interesting.”

“ _You’re right,”_ they agreed. “ _We’ll provide a comfortable environment for you, then.”_

Jongin looked at his phone and felt incredibly independent, like when he first made a medical appointment by himself. There he was, standing on his two feet, out of medication and doing something without someone helping him. He was even drinking—It made him think about how he loved to play. How he was meant to be in the night atmosphere, feeling people’s excitement and the music. The noises; the smell of a night out listening to jazz.

He stared at his phone. A real, real adult would text back.

“I guess,” he argued with himself, completely alone. He knew he was supposed to face Kyungsoo one day… maybe he should start with a message.

He typed. He deleted it. He typed—erased—typed.

 _Thanks for messaging me_. Too impersonal for a couple who lived together.

 _Congratulations on getting your star!_ Evasive. They had things to discuss. If he typed the same thing without the exclamation point, it would sound bitter.

 _Sorry for not answering the message_. _I’ve heard about the star—_ way too casual. It wasn’t like Jongin was away because he wanted to.

_It’s been a bit confusing later. Sorry for not answering, but I’m still not ready for this._

“Good,” Jongin was proud of himself again. It was the truth, at least. He thought about all the words he truly wanted to say, but he couldn’t,

_I still love you. Do you love me like that day when you worked all day but still managed to watch me play? You kissed me and it tasted like exhaustion and love. I love you so much and I’m so happy you got what you wanted the most, even if it wasn’t me. I wanted to be there. I wanted to hug you, to kiss you, to suck you all night long because you deserve it. I can’t sit and look at you and see how you’re achieving everything and I’m losing so much. There’s nothing here for you to admire. There’s me and I’m skinny and hairy and one leg is thinner than the other. I’m not the man in the cover article anymore, not a pretty face with actual talent, I’m just… I don’t even know who I am now. I’m torn between seeing you because oh god I miss you so much, I miss you more than running, and hiding until I’m better enough to truly face you and be the man you need. Having someone else is just like traveling, is just a fucking dream—_

The application didn’t allow any more words. Jongin erased the incomplete sentence and the phone was slow, so he clicked several times to erase everything.

Instead of that, he sent the message.

For a second, Jongin stared at his phone in disbelief. It really sounded like a prank, like he was watching himself and his clumsiness doing that, from another realm, not truly there, alive, doing something so imbecile.

His hands were shaking, but he still had the strength to manage to open the information bar to check if it was sent.

_Message sent to Chanyeol, 14:12_

Jongin frowned.

He sat straight and went back to the list of names. Chanyeol was at the top. He checked the conversation.

 

 **pcy:** wanna watch a nice animation???? Put on a coat!!!!!!! Let’s go to the movies! Minseok said okay too!

 **pcy:** sent a message to Taeyeon instead of Jongdae you know he’ll whine!!!

 **Jongin:** _I still love you. Do you love me like that day when you worked all day but still managed to watch me play? You kissed me and it tasted like exhaustion and love. I love you so much and I’m so happy you got what you wanted the most…_

“What?” Jongin mumbled. He looked at the time Chanyeol sent the messages and realized that the application just moved to the top when Chanyeol sent them and Jongin was so nervous that he clicked on it without checking the names.

Yet, Jongin was relieved.

 

 **Jongin:** _Sorry, I sent it to the wrong person. I need to stop being distracted. Yeah, we can watch a movie today, I’m out of meds. Please don’t bother to read what I sent. It was a mistake._

 

He took a deep breath and let the relief wash his fears away. The phone rang like crazy.

**pcy:** well fuck if I’m going to ignore this but you may not want to talk so I’ll say a couple of things and then pretend I didn’t read.

 **pcy:** first WHAT THE FUCK I know you’re an avid reader but you can truly express your emotions through words???? This is a gift??? I’ll hire you to write for me??????? holy shit

 **pcy:** second… only now you say ‘should stop being distracted’ JONGIN YOU WERE HIT BY A CAR

 **pcy:** hmmm… so you’re really head over heels about this dude… I was a bit jealous because you don’t dirty talk casually like that with me??????????????????? w h y. that was sexy tho

 **pcy:** put on a fucking coat and stop worrying about your body you’re HOT like HOT as lava. and I’m afraid of lava. it looks… evil? Can’t explain but it does

 **pcy:** I just know you’re drinking… stop drinking!!!!!!!!! And sending messages to your ex??? I guess it’s not bad if you write those things but………… hmmm… you could sound less desperate and more poetic when you’re sober

 **pcy:** I’ll be there by seven pm please feed tan? And the stray cats. Minseok just asked

 **pcy:** now let’s pretend I didn’t read, bye.

 

 

Jongin’s phone dropped on the floor since he was laughing way too hard.

 

 

 

.


	5. VIII, IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the little prince is quoted here

 

**CHAPTER VIII – THE STAIRS**

**.**

 

Jongin put the papers in the wooden box quickly. They decided that he should be the one taking care of the important things and Jongin didn’t tell them that he was heavily known for being a walking catastrophe. He took his time to not destroy a thing, using a plastic bag to pick them – there were no gloves. He was sitting on the ground, but he was completely dressed and using a wool cap. The others were walking in circles, carrying boxes and helping with the packing. It seemed like the absence of his crutches didn’t change the fact that he was still the ‘sick’ person.

“Does he have any socks…” Jongdae asked, folding the clothes one by one. Minseok should have been responsible for that, but he only needed to step on Chanyeol’s apartment to give up. He screamed ‘no’ and simply ran away. Jongin felt guilty because Chanyeol could be a messy person, but they were responsible for the littering and the disorganization, both of them.

“Here,” Taeyeon came from nowhere with a bunch of white socks. “I don’t think he used those yet.”

She was nice enough to replace Minseok; Jongin thought that she was an amazing person to give up on her free day to help a friend to pack. She had such a small structure, but she was very energetic.

“What’s in that box?” Jongdae pointed to a huge box that was next to the door. Taeyeon took her cap off and pushed her bangs back before walking to the box. She opened it carefully as if something could jump off it.

“Nothing,” she smiled. “Look at how much space it takes… and it got nothing inside.”

“Typical,” Jongdae shook his head. “Chanyeol needs classes in space management.”

“And money,” Jongin said and Jongdae nodded because they all witnessed how crazily he spent his salary. Taeyeon entered the box and sat inside, only the tip of her head being seeing.

“Let’s KonMari him,” she laughed. “Wait. I have an idea!”

“That’s a bad idea,” Jongdae said, tired, folding the socks. “I know this voice.”

“Listen,” she raised an arm. “Close the box and let’s prank him!”

Jongin smiled immediately; Jongdae, who was tired and not in his best mood lately, lighted up. He stood up in a second and close the box slowly, being careful with her head and then he went inside. Jongin crossed his legs and waited, anxious until they returned to the room.

“… That big box there,” Jongdae pointed, pretending to be scared. “Are you sure there’s nothing inside? I mean, if you don’t open it regularly, it could have some cockroaches inside.”

“No,” Chanyeol said, already terrified. He was using a t-shirt around his hair because he was dying it again and it made his ears even more prominent, like an Elf’s ears. “I… I’ll take a look.”

Jongin looked down to not spoil the prank. He waited while Chanyeol approached the box and opened it, then he looked in the right moment that Taeyeon jumped, screaming and Chanyeol screamed back.

Jongin couldn’t stop laughing not even if he tried. Chanyeol’s face went from fear to anger and it was even more hilarious. Jongdae’s loud laughter echoed through the room and Taeyeon ran away before Chanyeol could catch her.

“Noona, why?” He pouted, clutching his chest. “That’s mean!”

Jongdae fell on the ground and Chanyeol turned to them, angry, pointing a finger.

“You traitors,” he whined. “You’re supposed to be here to help me!”

They earned his forgiveness by helping him to clean the house. After their finished the task, Chanyeol put his suitcase next to the door and took every beer from his fridge.

“Someone has to drink them,” he put them on the table. “I don’t know how much time it could take. It could be a month or… three.”

Jongin took one, happy that he could join them. Jongdae didn’t drink and Taeyeon refused the offer gently.

“I take a controlled substance,” she said in a casual way, but Jongin was still visibly surprised. Jongdae smiled in that suggestive way as if he had figured out everything.

“She’s not dying,” he said.

“Well, we are all slowly dying, you should have known that, you’re a nurse,” she mocked, which was their way to flirt, Jongin had noticed before. “Mental illness, Jongin. I thought you had meds for that too.”

“I refused,” he explained. “I just took herbal medicine and vitamins for the mood swings."

“Oh,” she said slowly, nodding. “I see.”

“I guess tonight is just you and me drinking,” Chanyeol leaned to knock on Jongin’s bottle with his own bottle.

“I’m also going to sleep,” Jongdae said and Chanyeol whined really loud. “I’ve seen you leaving and coming back a hundred times, Chanyeol. You’ll survive not seeing me before another travel.”

“He got the morning shift,” Taeyeon explained. “I’m also going to work early.”

“Boring,” Chanyeol said, taking the shirt off his head. There was a distinctive line dividing his dirty face from his clean forehead. His head was washed and now, completely silver. “Go home! Boo!”

Jongin laughed because he was laughing constantly since he was preparing the story for the kids. He was so excited that laughing nervously was his only response to most things. Maybe it was the lack of meds, too. He was more responsive, more awake and… feeling every remaining pain, especially after the physio, since he was now working out to make his leg stronger.

“Are you going to leave too?” Chanyeol asked, throwing the shirt on him.

“No,” Jongin said, catching it and almost losing his balance. “I’ll drink a little more.”

“Nice. Help me with my hair, yes?”

Jongin wouldn’t say no to a chance to be useful. Chanyeol sat on a chair and placed a mirror on his front, supporting it on his thighs. Jongin applied the hair dye slowly and carefully because even though he watched people doing that many times, he had never done it himself.

He held the comb and rubbed slowly on Chanyeol’s scalp, opening a tiny space to get on the roots.

“I’m already getting bald,” Chanyeol said, eyes closed. He looked different like that; his Adam's apple was more prominent with his head leaned back. Jongin let the hair dye taint his shirt, but it was an old shirt, with holes on it. 

“Aren’t we all,” Jongin said absently.

“I know I keep a lot of stuff,” Chanyeol said and for a moment Jongin was distracted by his Adam’s apple moving again. “I will donate a few things before catching my plane.”

“Yeah,” Jongin blinked several times, then went back to finish his work. “You have a lot of things you don’t use. That’s not very smart, hyung. You need to be more careful with your money.”

“If you like anything, you can take for yourself,” Chanyeol said simply.

“Look down,” Jungin pushed Chanyeol’s head gently. “I need to finish dying the back of your head.”

Chanyeol did as Jongin told and hummed happily like he was being petted. Jongin smiled; he liked how Chanyeol was open to affection every time.

“I can’t imagine you being sad,” he confessed. “It’s weird.”

“I cried when we were watching Frozen,” Chanyeol said, snorting. “You saw me crying.”

“Not sad like that,” Jongin said, brushing the wet hair. “Sad… sad. Deeply sad.”

“I don’t get like that because… well, I think I use my sadness to be productive. Or maybe I just pretend I’m not.”

“That’s hard.”

“No, it’s not. You just have to remember that everything is temporary.”

Jongin made a face. Chanyeol, looking at the floor, couldn’t see it, but the mirror reflected it.

“That’s a tragedy,” Jongin gulped.

“That’s a blessing,” Chanyeol corrected.

 

 

Because the plastic bag couldn’t protect his hands, the tip of Jongin’s fingers were as pink as Chanyeol’s head. He washed them many times, but it didn’t solve the problem. Chanyeol wasn’t worried.

“It’s okay,” he said, grabbing a towel. “Your fingers will be back to the original color in a few days. I’m going to take a bath and wash my hair.”

Jongin could go home, but instead, he inspected Chanyeol’s belongings. He had a lot of random things and Jongin picked a few toys to give to the kids and put on a bag. In the middle of his clothes – he was surprised to find out that Chanyeol had so many pieces of clothing when the producer used about… ten percent of them – he found a NASA jacket. A pink bomber jacket with a NASA logo that Jongin fell in love at first sight. He tried on, just to see if it fitted, but he and Chanyeol were almost the same size – except for shoes. Jongin felt good using it and he was so absorbed on the sight of it that he barely registered when Chanyeol back hugged him.

“Did you like it?”

Jongin allowed his long and wet arms to engulf him; Chanyeol pressed his face against Jongin’s neck.

“Then take it,” he said, lips ghosting Jongin’s skin. “I bought it when I visited the space center to see the rockets launching…”

“Nerd,” Jongin teased, looking at their reflection in the mirror.

“I’m a space nerd,” Chanyeol agreed, kissing his neck. “But really, take it. I think I never used this thing. I forget that I keep buying new clothes.”

Jongin looked at the jacket and he remembered how he used to be enthusiastic about fashion. When he was a teenager and he and his friends liked to have their favorite brands… then when he got his own money, he was ecstatic when he first bought the clothes he used to saw in magazines. It had been so long since he was interested in those.

“That’s a questionable look,” Jongin mumbled. “My teenage self would love it.”

“You’re talking about me or the jacket,” Chanyeol raised his head, confused. “I’m naked. Are you talking about my looks?”

“You’re gorgeous,” Jongin said simply. “I was talking about the jacket.”

Chanyeol twisted Jongin on his arms, something that he could only do now that Jongin was walking normally. They were face to face and the kiss was familiar and wet, burning down. He was used to it, already, the way Chanyeol took his clothes messily or jerked him off lazily, saying incoherent things about what he wanted.

They weren’t very… energetic that night. It was all about handjobs and slow kisses. It was enough for Jongin, with his healing body and sleepiness. Chanyeol had warm skin, a soft mouth, but his body was hard and rigid when they were touching each other in bed.

The jacket was on the floor.

“I can’t sleep,” Jongin said, sweaty and dirty, pushing the blankets away from him. “But I’m sleepy.”

“Make some tea,” Chanyeol suggested; unlike Jongin, he had an easy sleep and a plane to catch. “Just don’t go home… let them have some privacy.”

“I won’t,” Jongin swore. He knew Chanyeol wouldn’t be mad at him for overstaying. Chanyeol was never truly mad at him, he thought, leaving the bed. As he walked to the kitchen, it started raining and Jongin felt cold. Something about realizing that the relationship was easy made him feel bad as if he just found out the trick behind a magic performance. The water was already boiling when he woke up from his thoughts. Jongin added the leaves and waited, looking at the window.

The moon was barely visible outside. It was probably a new moon, he remembered. Chanyeol explained the moon phases for him. He drank his tea and slept on the couch, instead.

 

 

 

Jongin had to stop and breathe before leaving the car. Minseok stared at him, worried, but didn’t do anything. Jongin had noticed that Minseok wasn’t exactly like Jongdae and Chanyeol when it came to taking care of people. He really expected Jongin to inform what was needed to do and Jongin wasn’t good at demanding anything, really. So Minseok just stopped the car and waited until Jongin was ready to leave.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to come with you?” He frowned.

“No,” Jongin said quickly, closing the door. “I’m fine! It’s just a bit of anxiousness. I mean, don’t worry about it, it’s not like I’m not used to an audience.”

Minseok giggled. He always looked like an excited kid with his gummy smile.

“I’ll be here in two or three hours,” he said. “It depends on how many students will need my help.”

“That’s fine, hyung, really,” Jongin nodded. “Thanks for driving me here.”

“No problem,” he winked.

Jongin watched him leaving in Chanyeol’s car. Jongdae had taken the Vespa since Minseok offered to drive Jongin to the bookstore. Jongin walked there slowly, looking if there were any moms or dads around. He was neatly dressed, with his formal, expensive jeans pants, his clean sneakers and a suit jacket over his blue bear sweater. He wanted just one thing that the kids would like to see but still looked presentable for the parents.

He entered the store and a girl with red hair spotted him immediately.

“Ah, Kim Jongin-ssi,” she bowed several times. “So excited to see it wasn’t a prank!”

He snorted.

“It’s not,” he smiled.

“I’ll take you there, it’s just a small space,” she walked, pointing. “By the way, I’m Sooyoung.”

“Nice to meet you,” he said, trying to keep up with her quick pace. His legs weren’t that fast anymore. “I remember you.”

“Yeah, I was here when you bought books, but… we are never sure when we meet a celebrity in real life,” she laughed. “Here.”

They just added a colorful partition on the children’s book’s corner. It was surrounded by kid’s plushies and dolls. Jongin recognized his seat because it was the tallest, even if it was decorated with unicorns.

There were three kids sitting down, playing. Two boys and one girl. Jongin smiled, grabbing the book – he was happy that at least they came to listen.

“Can I go there?”

“You still have ten minutes or so,” She checked a pocket watch, hidden in her green work apron. “Do you want some tea or coffee? It’s free for volunteers.”

“I would love… some tea,” he gulped. “Thank you very much.”

He smiled to himself. He knew the story by heart and he really, really loved kids. Why did he think it would be bad? This was exactly what he needed to do.

 

 

He decided to stop at chapter nine. He was reading, showing, pictures, dramatizing, and answering questions. Now there were five of them, since two sisters arrived later, with a mom that looked tired and defeated. They asked about everything, the plane, the flower, his clothes, the universe… he spent too much time indulging them.

“ _Then she added, ‘Don’t stand here. It makes me angry. You decided to leave. So, now go!’ she said it because she didn’t want to show her tears. She was such a proud flower,”_ he said slowly, pouting like he imagined that the flower did. “That’s it.”

And he closed the book. The kids whined, of course.

“How about the rest,” one of the boys asked, a bit offended.

“Next week,” Jongin smiled. “Until there, you can think about what’s going to happen.”

“I think the flower will cry,” one of the sisters said. “She wants to cry! She loves the prince!”

“No, she’s egoist,” her sister argued. “If she loved him then she wouldn’t send him away!”

“He was going, anyway,” the other boy added, a little bored. “She was too attached to him and he had a plane? You won’t stay if you have a plane. Planes can fly everywhere.”

Jongin waved to the parents before they could keep arguing. It was getting late and Jongin could see how the parents were relaxing, drinking coffee and reading. It was a good thing for everyone.

The last kid to leave was the girl who came alone. She had a big doll, almost her size; she had bangs and looked around seven years old.

“That’s a misunderstanding,” she said, struggling to explain. “It makes me want to cry. Why they can’t be together?”

“Wait for the rest of it,” Jongin petted her hair. “Don’t be anxious.”

She nodded.

 

 

He waited outside for Minseok. That was his only taste of freedom – the cold wind on his face.

“Hello,” Sooyoung opened the door, only half of the body out. “Are you sure you’ll be here next week? We can call another volunteer.”

“I’m sure,” Jongin nodded, crossing his arms.

“The parents were impressed that you were that sweet around kids,” she said proudly. “But really, as a book enthusiast, I have to ask you a question!”

He nodded, smiling.

“Where did you get such a nice edition?” She pointed to the book. “I have never seen anything like this.”

“It’s because it was made for me,” he explained. “Someone made it for me when the book entered the public domain. The drawings are made by an American cartoonist.”

“So cool,” she said, her eyes shining. It was obviously something to be treasured. His phone rang and it was Minseok.

“Sorry,” he bowed. “I have to go.”

 

 

They bought food in the way. Minseok wasn’t very good at grocery shopping and Jongin was even worse, so they just got fast food. Jongin wanted to celebrate; he was feeling calm as if he had slept the whole evening. Minseok was telling fun stories and screaming at him for eating inside the car, so Jongin only stopped smiling when he had to face the stairs.

“I’ll be just behind you,” Minseok said.” I can’t catch you since you’re like… twice my size, but at least you’ll fall on something soft.”

Jongin snorted.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m slow.”

“As long as you get there,” Minseok put a hand on his back. “Then it’s fine.”

Jong climbed the stairs in a few minutes. His body wasn’t hurting, but it was tiring to make more exercises after the physio and the gym.

“You did great,” Minseok said. “Chanyeol would be proud!”

“I bet he would,” Jongin looked back and he realized that he overestimated how long the staircase was. “He barely called since he went to Japan.”

“It’s like that,” Minseok shook the food bag. “He lives with his… let’s call boyfriend in the lack of an appropriate term. I guess they have lots of things to discuss.”

“I didn’t know that,” Jongin said. “That he lived with someone.”

“Oh, Japan is expensive,” Minseok laughed as they faced the other steps to the house. “Chanyeol lives comfortably, but he couldn’t afford a place in Japan on his own, I think.”

“Yeah,” Jongin nodded. “I once wanted to live in Paris. I know that feeling… maybe if I found someone to share, I could do it.”

“Finding someone is the hardest part,” he laughed. “If Jongdae accepted my love… maybe.”

They laughed hard and loud.

“I’ll fight you for his heart,” Jongin showed his fist. “He’s a catch!”

“Look at us,” Minseok laughed. “Two homewreckers.”

 

 

 

 

The second night was even more exciting and Jongin decided to hail a cab since he didn’t want to bother his friends. There were seven kids and an old lady joined them, which made Jongin even happier. He was reading faster, clearer and once in a while, he stopped to show the drawings and the kids loved it.

“ _'My flower can disappear soon,’ thought the little prince, ‘and she has only four thorns to defend herself against the world! And I left her alone!’_ ,” Jongin read and then moved the book to show the drawing of the little Prince in distress.

There was an adult listening to them, standing on the corner. He was holding a notebook and smiling.

“He looks sad,” one girl said. “Is he worried…?”

“Yes,” another girl said. “Because his flower will die.”

Jongin was used to the kids’ dramatic statements and he giggled. He stopped reading at chapter twenty-three.

“I think I can finish it next week,” he said. “It’s near the end of the book.”

He waited for the kids to leave and put his sneakers on before leaving the carpet. The man was still on the same spot, but now writing with a shining pen. Jongin stared at him and he knew that this man was familiar, but he couldn’t remember when they met.

“Hello,” Jongin said. “Did you enjoy the reading?”

“Oh,” the man smiled, shaking his pen. “Very much.”

Jongin looked at his long fingers and then… realized. He felt embarrassed to be struck by a strong sexual memory in a kids’ space.

“I think I look better with a wig,” Baekhyun said. “You look disappointed.”

“That’s not it…” Jongin sighed. Baekhyun looked very attractive with casual masculine clothes. “I… let’s talk outside.”

“Fine,” Baekhyun nodded. “Let’s go.”

Jongin said goodbye to Sooyoung and to the parents on his way. Baekhyun opened the door for him and he crossed his arms when the cold wind hit his face. He was using just an ordinary shirt.

“You’re walking,” Baekhyun said. “How’s your leg?”

“Better,” Jongin said.

There were people passing by and the donut’s store was crowded. That made Jongin uncomfortable.

“Why did you choose the Little Prince?” Baekhyun crossed his arms too, but it was just to challenge him.

“It’s one of my favorite books,” Jongin said weakly. “Are you interviewing me?”

“Yes and no,” Baekhyun looked away. “The media has been warned that you’re here. You can expect a crowd next week.”

Jongin closed his eyes, tired.

“Is that why you’re here?”

“Yes,” Baekhyun said. “I’m supposed to write something about you, but it did feel weird to write like you’re a… neutral subject.”

Jongin giggled.

“So, it’s personal?”

“You can call me an old-fashioned man,” Baekhyun said nonchalantly. “But I think you should know, at least.”

Jongin took a deep breath. It was not like he could run from the public forever. He had plenty of time, after all. He licked his dry lips, weak against the wind, and nodded.

“Thanks for warning me.”

“If you want to, I can publish your version of the facts,” his voice was softer. “It can undermine those gossip magazines.”

“I’m pretty sure they have a hotter subject to talk about,” Jongin shook his head. “And what else I would have to say? It’s pretty much what you see now. I’m reading stories for kids and I’m almost fine.”

Baekhyun let his arms fall and then picked a pack of cigarettes. Jongin hated the smell and he hated how it hurt his lungs; but since he was no longer playing, then it was fine. Just another way to die.

His eyes lingered on the cigarette between Baekhyun’s lips and he felt a bit warmer.

“Are you going home?” Jongin asked quietly.

“My home is four hours from here,” Baekhyun smiled, amused, lighting the cigarette. Jongin understood his point – it was the rush hour.

“Mine is nearer,” he said casually.

 

 

 

Jongdae was scandalized.

He didn’t even change his clothes and he was paranoid about bringing the hospital’s “energy” (most likely germs) to their house. He stood in the room, shocked, watching Baekhyun steal an apple and leave, with his shirt unbuttoned and his hair wet.

“What’s that?” He asked Jongin, gaping, as soon as the door was closed.

“A guy,” Jongin said, smiling lazily, still in a happy mood. Baekhyun waited for him to wake up and kissed him – Jongin was still the same sappy guy. He still wanted affection from a one-night stand.

“Are you going to bring men home now?” Jongdae asked. He wasn’t mad, just genuinely confused.

“No,” he said. “If only I did, though.”

The sentence remained incomplete and he sat on the chair. Jongdae was now serious as if he had read something on Jongin’s attitude. They ate in silence again, for a long time.

“How’s your body?” Jongdae asked. “I mean… the healing process. Not about… the… you know.”

“Good,” Jongin said. “Not great, but… I only take three minutes to climb the stairs.”

“That’s amazing,” Jongdae smiled.

Jongin was munching a muffing when Jongdae grabbed the coffee cup and sighed. They stared at each other.

“The guy,” he said slowly. “He called.”

Jongin froze.

“Who?”

“You know who,” Jongdae said. “Voldemort, I guess.”

Jongin snorted and he accidentally hit a glass of cookies and it fell on the floor, breaking in a few pieces. It didn’t touch them, rolling away far from the table.

“Sorry,” Jongin said. “I’m a disaster.”

“No, that’s fine” Jongdae shrugged. “But no cookies for you.”

“That was fun,” Jongin drank his juice and licked his lips. “Because he only uses black. His entire wardrobe. It’s black.”

Jongdae would probably ask ‘really?’ if it was a light subject, but this time, he just waited for Jongin to keep talking.

“Once I made him use one of the gifts he got from his family. Green shirt, beige pants. We went to the movies,” Jongin played with the glass. “He looked good. I was happy.”

“Jongin…” Jongdae said quietly.

“And there was that time that I thought that I could convince him not to break up with me,” he kept talking and his voice was emotionless. “I wore black. I thought he would like. Unfortunately, sex can’t fix relationships.”

Jongdae touched his hand. Jongin felt like he was stuck in a trance.

“He got tired,” Jongin confessed, for the first time, out loud. “He got tired because I was stuck and he kept moving forward. He got tired because I was using him to forget my own problems. Like everyone gets tired of me because they have better things to do and I don’t have it anymore. I can’t get better and I’m left behind.”

“You need to call him back,” he argued. “You literally can’t run.”

Maybe it would be funny if Jongin wasn’t feeling like shit.

“No,” Jongin said. “Not yet.”

Jongdae held his hand.

“Listen to me,” he said. “If you wait until you feel better enough or good enough to do anything, you’ll never do it. You’ll only be better when you face what you’re afraid of. There’s no such thing as hiding until you’re good. Trust me, I know enough about healing. You'll get better outside.”

Outside, Jongin thought, where?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**CHAPTER IX – THE GOOD AND BAD DREAMS**

.

 

 

 

He had the same nightmare’s story. He realized when he woke up.

There was always some friend talking about their future, being successful, happy. Jongin was in the audience, in the backstage, on the row, always watching. Everything was slow and he couldn’t get out not even when he realized that he was stuck in a dream. This time, he even dreamed about playing in an empty club.

He moved too much in bed, so Kyungsoo woke up.

“Jongin,” Kyungsoo said, worried, grabbing his glasses next to the pillow. “What happened?”

“Nightmare,” Jongin mumbled, too tired to move. He looked up to the ceiling – too hot, he was sweating.

Kyungsoo jumped out of the bed and Jongin stared at his legs moving, how the underwear was sticking to his skin. Jongin didn’t want to cry because he had a photo shoot in the evening and he had to look good. That was what he had left, to look good. The general public didn’t mind great musicians, after all; they loved Jongin because he was talented and handsome, but much more for being handsome. That was the reason Jongin fixed his nose bump and made his eyes more symmetric; he went to the gym every day; followed a strict diet when he was living with a chef.

Kyungsoo went back with a glass of water. He gave it to Jongin and then opened the doors to the balcony, letting the wind in.

Jongin drank the water, breathed, closed his eyes when the wind hit his face. He should be outside; he should be living the night like he used to. He should be caring about money and getting rich.

Kyungsoo took the glass from his hand and put on the nightstand. Jongin threw himself on him, pressing his face against Kyungsoo’s chest. Kyungsoo petted his head slowly and none of them said nothing.

Jongin couldn’t sleep again. He was afraid of the nightmares, so he read a book instead. Kyungsoo made him a tea and then lied down next to him, keeping their bodies close.

“I’m grateful for what I have,” he mumbled, holding Kyungsoo’s hand. “There are good and bad dreams. Both are mine.”

“What,” Kyungsoo mumbled, sleepy.

“Nothing,” Jongin said, interlacing their fingers. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Kyungsoo said, closing his eyes.

He woke up still holding his book. He stretched up and went straight to the kitchen. He drank a glass of juice and an apple, checking his social media. His body was heavy, slow, and he didn’t want to leave. Lately, he never wanted to leave home, but when he watched Kyungsoo working nonstop, he felt inspired to work a little. Just a little.

Sehun called and Jongin ignored the call. They were arguing lately; Sehun kept saying things he didn’t want to hear and being rude – mostly because Jongin didn’t listen to him. Junmyeon said he would send a car and Jongin counted on his fingers how much time he had left to dress. He chose casual clothes since they would dress and get him ready, anyway. When he was about to leave, he noticed a package on the table.

 _For you_ , it was written in a tiny card; he knew the calligraphy by heart.

He took the package and opened it on the way.

A book. A pretty edition of The Little Prince; the book was large and big and when Jongin opened, he saw that it was almost a graphic novel. He couldn’t drop the book, not even during the make-up session. Everyone wanted to touch it since the cover had velvet details. On the last page, he found a note from the publisher.

 _T_ o _Kim Jongin. It was made for you._

Jongin read their names and he didn’t know the publisher or the artist behind the drawings. He didn’t even know people could be hired to do such a thing.

He held the book tighter before going to the photoshoot.

 

 

“You look happy,” Junmyeon said, smiling at him, as soon as they left the building. “What happened?”

“Kyungsoo gave me a book,” Jongin said, showing him the book.

“He’s always giving you pretty things,” Junmyeon said, touching the velvet details. “He’s spoiling you…”

“I deserve to be spoiled; don’t you think so?” Jongin winked. Junmyeon punched him playfully.

“I’m glad you’re feeling well,” he said. “Maybe you would like to go with me to the studio, today?”

The tone was too hopeful.

“No,” Jongin said, shrinking his shoulders. “I don’t want to.”

“That’s okay,” he smiled, a sight camouflaged in his words. “Maybe next time.”

“I’m eating at the Restaurant,” he explained. “If you want to join me.”

Junmyeon waited for the elevator to come since they were alone.

“I think you should give Kyungsoo a break,” he said simply, pressing the buttons. “It seems like you can use him to fill every hole in your life and you two just got together. That’s not a healthy relationship.”

“What do you know about healthy relationships,” Jongin said dryly. “You never had one.”

“Well, it’s true,” Junmyeon wasn’t mad. He still looked like one of those calm drama protagonists in his suit. “But I know Kyungsoo. He’s a busy man, he can’t solve your problems.”

“I’m not asking him to do it,” Jongin said defensively. “I never did.”

“Well, you don’t have to, do you? He’ll feel responsible for you, anyway,” Junmyeon snorted.

“You talk like Sehun,” Jongin was disgusted. “Are you chatting about me?”

“He’s been worried about you for a long time. You two shouldn’t be fighting,” he said in a quiet voice. “But yes, Jongin. Of course, we do, we’re all friends. Does that bother you?”

They left the elevator.

“No,” he mumbled. “If you don’t gang up against me.”

 

 

He stared at his empty plate and felt guilty about wasting time.

“I deserve this,” he said and he drank the rest of his wine. He didn’t believe his own words.

“Bye, Jongin,” one of the cookers waved at him. Jongin waved back, smiling. To help the cleaning, he took his plate and glass to the kitchen. It was almost empty and he washed them himself, saying goodbye to everyone.

Kyungsoo spotted him.

“Please don’t wash the dishes,” he said, rubbing a cloth on his hands. “Someone will see you, think that you work here and sue me for sexual harassment.”

Jongin snorted loudly; it echoed in the kitchen.

“Maybe I’m using sex to get the job,” he winked. “I’m not that innocent.”

Kyungsoo smiled, amused, and he leaned on the sink, next to Jongin.

“Did you like the book?”

“Very much,” Jongin said slowly. “It’s the prettiest thing I own now.”

He took the cloth from Kyungsoo and dried his hands. Kyungsoo held his hips gently.

“My only complaint about the food is that… I need more,” Jongin said.

“I’ll cook for you at home,” Kyungsoo said and Jongin leaned to kiss him softly, pressing their bodies together.

“The only thing I’ll eat when I get home is you,” Jongin whispered and kissed him harder, forcing his tongue in. Kyungsoo’s hands slipped from his waist to his ass and he grabbed it hard. Jongin felt chills down his spine.

“Really?” Kyungsoo asked between kisses, with his low, deep voice, knowing the exact tone to make Jongin a bit crazy.

“Fuck yes,” he sighed and he had to break the kiss to breathe. “Those pants are too tight for me to get hard, you see.”

Kyungsoo laughed, scrunching his nose cutely and making that weird ‘he, he, he’.

“Damn,” Jongin said. “I fucking love you.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jongin went to the airport all dressed up, using sunglasses and a coat. He took the cap off when he entered the place; it was… attention-drawing. He checked to see if the flight was delayed and then came back to the car.

He checked his watch. Kyungsoo was supposed to be there. He called his number and waited.

“… _hello_ ,” he said and he sounded tired. “ _I’m on my way.”_

Jongin frowned.

“Are you at the airport?”

“ _I’m on my way home,”_ Kyungsoo said innocently. Jongin felt his body shaking and he held the phone tighter.

“Kyungsoo,” he said between teeth. “I’m waiting for you at the airport. Like I said I would do.”

There was an uncomfortable silence.

“ _Meet me home,”_ he pleaded. “ _I’m really sorry. I forgot… I just entered a cab as soon as—”_

“Get out of this fucking car and I’ll pick you,” Jongin demanded and he hadn’t been angry like that in ages.

“ _Okay,”_ Kyungsoo said in a quiet voice.

How could Kyungsoo simply forget that Jongin would pick him up? Every time he came back home, Jongin was there.

He checked the address that Kyungsoo sent and put the GPS on.

Jongin wanted to cry and it was ridiculous because he knew he shouldn’t fight about something so little – but for him… it was different. They’ve been together for a while, but since Kyungsoo knew that the anonymous reviewers could visit his restaurant, he was acting oddly. Jongin tried his best. He accepted not being a priority. He didn’t say a word about international trips or the nights that he slept alone because Kyungsoo was too busy. They were a couple and every couple had bad moments.

But every word he swallowed was attempting to escape his mouth.

He spotted Kyungsoo, waiting under a tree since it was raining. Jongin waited to stop the car near the sidewalk and Kyungsoo was quick to enter it.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Besides his same black clothes, glasses, and cap, he had visible eyebags. “I’m really, really sorry.”

Jongin was driving again, trying to calm down. Usually, only the sight of his lover was enough to dissipate his anger, but this time he was truly hurt.

“Jongin,” Kyungsoo said.

“Why didn’t you pick the phone while you were there?” Jongin asked dryly, gulping. “I called you several times.”

“I didn’t have time to stop and I had to ran to the airport,” Kyungsoo explained, moving his backpack to sit more comfortably. Jongin turned on the windshield wiper and sighed; he didn’t know those streets very well.

“It’s just a fucking phone,” he said. “You could take two minutes to answer a call. You simply don’t think it’s important enough.”

Kyungsoo was wiping his face and again, he went silent, which Jongin hated. He hated how Kyungsoo reacted like a scared turtle, hiding inside his shell.

“Say something,” he grunted.

“I don’t know what to say,” Kyungsoo sighed. “You keep saying this to me. I’m trying my best…”

“No, you’re not,” Jongin argued. “I’m the one trying my best, Kyungsoo. Do you think I’m blind? I can see how you’re acting. I’m just so fucking tired.”

“I’m tired too,” Kyungsoo whispered. “I’m exhausted.”

“I’m sorry if I’m exhausting you,” Jongin said bitterly. They’ve been stuck on that loop and Kyungsoo didn’t even say anything back, this time. Maybe Jongin was exhausting him, after all. Maybe he was exhausting everyone since he couldn’t play. He was useless, a nuisance—

“Pay attention to the road,” Kyungsoo said simply, touching his leg. “We can discuss this later.”

“No, we won’t,” Jongin said, slapping his hand away. “We never discuss things. I’m just tired of you treating me like a child…”

“Then stop acting like a child,” Kyungsoo said suddenly and his voice… something was wrong. Jongin turned to him, shocked.

Kyungsoo was serious for a second – it was a sight that Jongin wouldn’t ever forget – and then, he just screamed,

“Hit the brake!”

Jongin stepped on the brake before looking to the road; his body was projected to the front, but not much – he had a nice car and nice brakes. He expected the car to hit something, he could swear he heard something breaking, but the car headlight was on a person with a hand over their face. They were just a meter or two away from the car.

“Oh,” Jongin mumbled as they walked away. “I’m sorry…”

He looked to the side and noticed that Kyungsoo was moving away from the dashboard, letting out painful little moans. Jongin touched his arm, realizing that he wasn’t wearing the seatbelt.

“Kyungsoo,” he asked, “are you okay?”

Kyungsoo sat back and there was a fine line of blood on his cheek. His glasses were on the dashboard, broken in many little pieces, only the frame intact.

Kyungsoo wiped his face and closed his eyes; he was probably hurt.

“Kyungsoo,” Jongin said again, almost whispering.

He looked at Jongin, his eyes opening slowly. He looked… numb. Kyungsoo’s eyes were always full of expression, but there was nothing there. Kyungsoo just opened the car door and left.

It felt a bit surreal and Jongin didn’t have a proper reaction, watching him leaving with his old backpack under the drizzle. The cars were honking around him and Jongin didn’t know if he should just keep driving or just wait.

 

 

 

 

 

.

 

 

 


	6. X, XI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He heard the sound of the plates. He opened his eyes and Jongdae was taking them. Jongin looked at him.
> 
> “I’m not done.”
> 
> “With the food or the talk?” Jongdae frowned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: intoxication, adult themes, trauma, past

**CHAPTER X – THE SURFACING**

 

**.**

 

 

The first thing he heard after he woke up was the phone ringing on the nightstand.

Jongin stretched up, moving his legs slowly, then moved his toes and neck. He could smell coffee and warm bread, so he answered the call on his way to the kitchen. It was raining and the plants on the window seemed to be happy to get their water.

“Hello,” Jongin said, rubbing his slippers on the floor.

“ _Wanna see something cool?”_ Chanyeol asked, excited. Jongin could hear his smile through his voice.

“Maybe,” Jongin yawned. “If it’s not a dick pic, yes.”

“ _I’m hurt that you think that I’m this kind of dude, but thanks for calling my dick cool? It’s cool indeed,”_ He laughed loudly and somehow Jongin felt that he missed it. “ _It’s a new cute thing that I got.”_

“Stop buying things,” Jongin said absently as soon as he saw Jongdae breaking an egg. He would get a full breakfast that morning.

“ _Well, you’re going to regret saying that so much,”_ Chanyeol said confidently. “ _It’s the best thing ever!”_

“Ok, what it is?” Jongin asked, bored. Jongdae turned to him and winked to inform that he was listening. Chanyeol made a video call and Jongin almost screamed when he looked at the screen.

“What?” Jongdae said, holding a spatula high like he was ready to beat the shit out of someone.

“A dog,” Jongin cried. “Look at this!”

It was a tiny, energetic poodle jumping around. It was such a nice, pure view that Jongin couldn’t help but smile – he needed that affection that only animals could give. That was why he loved dogs and kids so much because no place was sad when they were around.

“Oh, that’s cute,” Jongdae mumbled, smiling lazily. “But don’t scare me that way!”

“Sorry,” Jongin said, eyes glued on the screen. “Are you bringing him with you?”

“ _Probably_ ,” Chanyeol said, only his voice was heard since the dog was licking the screen. “ _But I just wanted to lift your mood. Jongdae told me you were kind of blue…_ ”

Jongin rolled his eyes at Jongdae; the nurse raised his hands apologetically, dropping the spatula on the floor. It made a loud sound and it probably broke; Jongin felt bad by how relieved he was to not be the only person messing up and breaking things. He smiled for a second before remembering why it happened in the first place.

“Well, thank you, but,” he made a face, “you’re not my personal clown and I’m a grown man. I don’t need dogs to make me happy because one thing didn’t happen as I wanted it to.”

“ _That’s exactly why I bought the dog, Jongin, are you calling me a child”?_

He showed his face, trying to look mad. Jongin snorted.

“You’re a child and this is a pointless discussion,” Jongdae said, his words muffled by his position since he was almost under the sink while collecting the spatula's broken pieces.

“I’ll go out with my best friend, so I’ll have a reason to not be mad about what happened,” Jongin said. “Also, Jongdae is trying to cook breakfast for me, so that only would make me happy.”

“ _Great. Wanna talk about it?”_

Jongdae stood up and stretched, but he had lost his tool already. It was sad to see him using a fork, instead.

“Go wash your face and mouth,” he whispered to Jongin.

“Fine,” Jongin said, getting up with the phone on his hand. “I was talking to Jongdae. There’s nothing I want to talk about.”

“ _Oh, I see,_ ” Chanyeol narrowed his eyes – the dog was running behind him. “ _So you talk to him now. I Just left and you replaced me already.”_

“No, but it makes sense,” Jongin said opening the bathroom’s door. “I mean, I do have a thing for shorter people. I can hug them and feel like a warm, big and soft bear.”

“ _You need way more hair in your body and some pounds to belong in the bear community.”_

“And long nails,” Jongin said, distracted, looking for his toothbrush. “I wouldn’t look cute as a bear like that.”

“ _I’m not talking about these bears, Jongin,”_ Chanyeol laughed. “ _Forget it, babe. So will you spill it out or not?”_

“It wasn’t a disaster, okay? It didn’t even catch me by surprise,” Jongin sighed, staring at his face on the mirror. He looked older and tired. “The media found my volunteer reading and they started to call the store. I mean, if it wasn’t about kids, I bet they would love the attention, but they were afraid of journalists making a mess… and believe me, they do, so the bookstore asked me not to read there for a while.”

“ _But how are you handling this?”_

“I don’t mind, really. It’s not that bad.”

The quality of the call wasn’t good and he could barely read the expression on Chanyeol’s face, but he heard the deep sigh.

“ _Fine. I guess Jongdae is better than me now. Go talk to him.”_

“There’s nothing else to be said,” Jongin was annoyed by the conversation. “Except I dropped your book in the sink and it got wet, but the good part is that I also forgot where I put it, so it doesn’t matter.”

There was a voice saying something that Jongin couldn’t understand. Even with the low quality, he could see Chanyeol turning and the dog running.

“ _Gotta go. I’ll call you later.”_

Jongin stared at the screen. Chanyeol didn’t say a word about how he was doing; Jongin even knew more of his routine through Instagram than his words; it didn’t hurt as it used to, to see someone having bigger, interesting things to do than enjoy his company. Jongin brushed his teeth and walked back to the kitchen, excited to eat.

“I’ve tried this recipe,” Jongdae was using those fluffy gloves to hold the pan and it was cute to watch. “It took so long in the oven that I had time to wipe the rainwater off… you forgot the window open.”

“Sorry,” Jongin pressed his palms together like he was praying. “I fell asleep on the couch… I was too sleepy to notice it when I got up to get in the bed…”

“Fine,” Jongdae mumbled, putting a tissue on the table before placing the pan on it. “But you can’t complain about the food!”

“I would never,” Jongin lied, already grabbing the plate. Jongdae was in a good mood, he noticed. The pancakes and the rice soup didn’t look pretty but tasted nice, there was a burning incense stuck on an old-looking soup and his hair was shining, differently from the oily mess that it used to be in his working days.

“It should have been more spiced,” he tasted it slowly; Jongin, sitting on the table, said nothing and ate quietly as he should.

The rain was strong and the cats were protected inside. Jongin could hear them on the stairs between the houses.

“Is this about my bad mood?” Jongin asked, licking his lips.

“It’s about our bad mood,” Jongdae said. “I decided to take a break from work and spend a few days at Taeyeon’s family house. They keep inviting me but I never stayed.”

“Oh,” Jongin mumbled.

“You’ll have to buy your own food,” Jongdae informed him, pouring hot sauce on the pancakes. “And maybe pay a few bills for me.”

“I’ll pay them all with my money, completely,” Jongin said. “And I’ll also replace the things I destroyed.”

Jongdae stared at him curiously; Jongin expected him to throw a fit.

“You’re not in a bad mood,” he pointed.

“Of course, I wasn’t lying,” Jongin was a bit annoyed. “I was lying about the cats breaking stuff, I confess.”

Jongdae laughed. For the first time, in a long, long time, Jongin wanted to put music on, to fit the breakfast mood, even jazz.

“I was a bit afraid of leaving you,” Jongdae said slowly. “I know you have some issues about that. And there was the volunteering thing…”

“I knew it was going to happen, for the love of God, I am not sad about it,” Jongin repeated for the last time. “You’re not my nanny! Stop worrying so much!”

Jongdae smiled lazily, something that was so natural on his face that the smile seemed imprinted on it. 

“So you won’t miss me at all,” he teased.

“A little,” Jongin made a gesture with his fingers. “A tiny, tiny bit.”

“Minseok will be there, probably drinking coffee, feeding cats and screaming about his thesis,” Jongdae sighed. “So if you need something, just ask him.”

“Okay.”

Jongdae was staring at him. In silence.

“Stop,” Jongin frowned. “What do you want?”

“How’s therapy going?”

Jongin took a long breath. He had been reading books the last days, but he couldn’t pay attention. He didn’t have any focus; he kept forgetting what he was reading, where he left the books… all because of the latest sessions. He couldn’t formulate the answers or argue enough when he was facing his therapist; he needed time to digest, he needed outside input. He put the plate on the couch, right next to him, and started fidgeting (she pointed that he kept doing that unconsciously and now he was being aware every time he did it).

“She said something to me, a real… conclusion. I was kind of getting tired of just… small statements, she… finally shot me down,” Jongin said carefully. “Because I was so used to everyone being understandable about my depression after my dad passed away. I know that it was natural, but no one was as bad as I was. Then she looked at me and said that it wasn’t okay. Because it’s okay to be sad but we have to move on, and if I didn’t move on then it meant that it wasn’t just because of him. It was because of my own problems.”

“I see,” Jongdae nodded. “So it… made sense for you.”

“Of course. But not just that,” he said because he couldn’t say now that he started. “She told me that maybe I did stop liking the sax because he died, maybe not, but it didn’t matter that much, because the problem wasn’t in the root but what I made out of it. Instead of searching for new things, I closed myself off from everything and I… I couldn’t stand other people moving on. Is that bad to say? That their happiness hurt me?”

“No,” Jongdae shook his head. “It’s how we feel, sometimes.”

Jongin rubbed his face. “I knew this was going on. She didn’t say anything new. I knew that, but she said it and I guess now I’m listening. I know I can’t go back to love what I used to do and it’s hard. I was good with the sax, that’s what made me who I am today. When I lost that, I lost my whole identity. I knew it. I couldn’t recognize myself. But I kept ignoring it and pretending I could keep going on and I wasn’t going anywhere. Instead of living my life, I was mad because other people lived their own lives.”

Jongin felt like he was about to cry and he closed his eyes, breathing slowly. He didn’t want to cry, he didn’t want to be that guy who didn’t want to cry, and it was easy to fall into a never-ending circle of punishment.

He heard the sound of the plates. He opened his eyes and Jongdae was taking them. Jongin looked at him.

“I’m not done.”

“With the food or the talk?” Jongdae frowned.

“Both,” he took the plate from Jongdae’s hand. “I’ll eat even more.”

Jongdae snorted and sat next to him on the couch. Jongin moved his toes to distract himself from the tears.

“Is that helping you?” The older man asked gently. “To think about this?”

“Yes,” Jongin said. “I feel like I can express myself better now.”

“You do,” Jongdae said. “You hardly said a word when you arrived, Jongin. I thought you didn’t like me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jongin protested. “It is impossible to not like you! You’re an angel!”

Jongdae leaned to the side, eyes closed, shy. Jongin smiled, truly happy.

“I also like you a lot,” he said when he was less shy. “You’re a good boy, Jonginnie. I enjoy your company.”

“Even I bring half-naked men home?” Jongin asked.

“Not that much,” Jongdae laughed again, louder. “But I guess it comes with the package.”

A wet stray cat passed by the room; at this point, none of them were surprised. They seemed to like Chanyeol’s place better, but now their house had people and food for them.

“Do you talk about your therapist about that?” Jongdae asked, in a cautious tone.

“About what?” Jongin was distracted again.

“Men,” he answered simply.

Jongin blinked. He tried to focus before answering, to say it correctly.

“I didn’t even talk about this to myself,” he confessed. “I never put my mind on it. I knew I was into men, of course, I always knew…”

 

[He thinks about himself waiting for Taemin at the school gates and how jealous he was of his new friends.

How heartbreaking and painful it was.]

 

“…but I never actually… discussed it? Because I was okay dating women too, so in my mind, it wasn’t a problem, but it was. And when I finally got with a man, then it was never… a topic to talk about? Kyungsoo was always so stable and… he wasn’t someone who opens up easily too. I would move mountains to make him speak but he only talks when he wants to.”

“Oh,” Jongdae said quite easily. “Are we calling him by his name now?”

“I’m not ready to talk to him,” Jongin said quickly. “Because I’m embarrassed. I did a lot of stuff that I’m not proud of. I became a fucking stalker.”

“But you have to talk to him to fix this.”

“I know,” Jongin frowned. “Just… give me time, okay?”

“I’m not saying you have to do that now,” Jongdae stood up again. “You already made a lot of progress. I’m proud of you.”

Jongin watched him leaving to the kitchen and thanked the gods that Jongdae wasn’t looking. He wiped his eyes discreetly and savored those words in silence. His mind wandered; he would listen to the sounds, but he wasn’t there.

“I’m doing progress because Chanyeol isn’t here,” he said out loud without noticing.

Jongdae came back from the kitchen and stared at him in silence as if he was waiting for an explanation. Instead, he said,

“You need to climb the stairs on your own.”

“I need to climb the stairs on my own,” Jongin repeated.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sehun turned the chair slowly and dramatically and Jongin’s eyes were already open to see himself in the mirror. The hairstylist screamed something like ‘tandan’ and he giggled.

“It’s light… brown…” Jongin said, moving his head. Sehun lifted the hair-cutting black apron and Jongin shook his shoulders, measuring the length. It was shorter, boyish-like.

“You look younger,” the hairstylist said. “This color really fits you.”

“I agree,” Sehun said. “Of course, it looks nicer now that we went through skincare. You look better.”

“Thanks,” Jongin smiled. “I feel better, too.”

They waited to pay in a small line; it was a fancy place and they served them warm tea, which was perfect since it was raining outside. Sehun didn’t want to sit down; he spent the night working and he had eyebags, but his cap was covering half of his face.

“So you’re alone?” He asked, blowing the tea.

“Basically,” Jongin said, looking around, checking people’s faces. “Me and a dozen stray cats.”

“You finally became the old cat lady,” Sehun giggled. “Too bad you’re no longer using crutches; it would fit the situation perfectly.”

“Fuck you,” Jongin said. “I am very grateful for not using crutches anymore.”

“Are you going to the gym? You gained some weight since I last saw you.”

“Yes, small steps,” Jongin said absently. He was tired and hungry – he had forgotten how it was to go out and be a social person for many hours. He listened to Sehun talking mostly but being visible was odd, now that he was used to his house in the woods. “I need to get something to eat before I leave.”

They paid and Sehun only said something again when they were in the car.

“Kyungsoo asked me about you,” Sehun said, getting straight to the point. “He wanted to know if you’re okay, but you didn’t answer his message.”

“I’m sorry for being an ass to you,” Jongin said, suddenly. “I know you were trying to help me. I should’ve listened to you.”

“I shouldn’t accept your apologies, but I do like to be right,” Sehun shrugged. “So, you’re forgiven, but I’ll keep being petty to you.”

“I’m used to it,” Jongin laughed, hands playing with his phone. “What did you say to him?”

“That you’re fine,” Sehun said simply. “What else I could say to him? It’s kind of weird that you spent so much time begging for his attention and now you’re ignoring him.”

“That’s not it,” Jongin said quietly.

“Then what it is?” Sehun inquired, almost whispering. The Uber driver didn’t seem to care.

Jongin licked his lips slowly.

“You didn’t like the idea of us being a couple, why do you care now?” He asked bitterly. “That’s none of your business.”

“You’re right,” Sehun shrugged. “I don’t care.”

He does, Jongin thought, but he was avoiding another fight. At this point, he was afraid that they never could return to what they used to be—

“I’m doing it again,” he whispered.

“What?” Sehun asked, crossing his arms. “Being an asshole? I agree.”

“No,” he mumbled. “I’m sad because things changed between us and I can’t control it.”

Sehun didn’t answer. The rain was loud, hitting against the car roof, and they weren’t that far from the supermarket. They were sitting just centimeters apart but Jongin felt like there were miles between them.

“I want the best for you,” Sehun said suddenly. “And I try my best, but I was jealous.”

It felt like the time had stopped, or maybe he was stuck in a bad dream.

“Why?” Jongin asked. “ _I_ was jealous. You had everything, Sehun. You’re just reaching higher and I’m here trying to recover from this shitty life.”

Sehun was looking to the window. He didn’t have any expression on his face. Jongin touched his arm gently.

“I’ve been like shit because I was possessive and bitter of you moving on. Even being more friendly around my friends. I kept saying to myself that this was just our way, that we have been competitive and I just wanted us to get on the top, better and better,” Jongin confessed, almost whispering. “But I was in a bad place and I projected my anger on you. I knew you were trying to warn me… I knew I was using my relationship as an escape, I just didn’t want to listen to you.”

Sehun nodded, still not looking at him.

“When I told you to take care of yourself, I was being sincere,” he answered. “But when it was about Kyungsoo, it wasn’t.”

Jongin let his hand fall. For a terrifying moment, he saw himself waiting for Taemin, just an innocent kid. He was afraid that he could have done the same with someone.

“Why?” He asked.

“I love him,” Sehun said. “It’s… dumb. He doesn’t know.”

It was worse. Yet Jongin wasn’t surprised—if he had paid attention…

“Don’t tell anyone. I told Junmyeon and he… tried to protect me,” Sehun kept talking, voice stable as if he’s reciting something. “But I couldn’t help but get angry at you. Because he saw me as a little brother. But not you.”

Jongin didn’t know what to say.

“Sorry,” Sehun mumbled and he was visibly embarrassed.

“You don’t have to apologize for that,” Jongin said. “I’m not mad.”

Sehun finally turned to him.

“It was hard to say. I didn’t want anyone to know.”

“I know,” he touched his best friend’s face. “Fuck, I know that better than anyone.”

They stayed in silence again. Jongin wasn’t feeling anything – it was just like Sehun had confessed that he once stole candy from a shop. Instead, Jongin kept thinking about how people could look at him in the same way that he looked at them. Someone wanted to be under Jongin’s skin like he wanted to be under theirs.

“You’re my best, best friend. All I want to do is to be around you. I don’t care about that,” Jongin whispered to Sehun, rubbing his back. Sehun wiped his face, but Jongin couldn’t see it under the cap.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” Sehun said. “But I felt guilty.”

“I understand,” Jongin mumbled.

When Jongin got out of the car, he didn’t say anything. He knew Sehun needed to be quiet when he was like that, that he had a hard time expressing himself. Jongin ran to escape the rain, but he was still a bit wet when he entered the supermarket. He looked for what was easy to eat and to cook and avoided eye contact, after all, he could be recognized when he was in the city. No one but the cashier recognized him.

“I think I have a magazine at home…” she said while taking his card. “You’re on the cover.”

“Really?” Jongin giggled, a bit shy. “I hope I was wearing a shirt.”

“I don’t think so,” she giggled too, wiping the car on her apron. She didn’t ask for a picture or mentioned the accident. It was better than he expected.

When he waiting for the uber, he ate an apple, staring up at the cloudy sky.

 

 

 

 

The following days were quiet. He finished the books on his table and wrote about them on his computer; he bought food on his way to the physio and paid the bills between therapy and the doctor appointment. He visited his mother and his sister and they were happy to see that he was doing most things on his own, even if his mother was still concerned about his weight loss.

Jongin wasn’t even trying to overthink about the past events. He just wanted to do better, try a bit harder. It wasn’t a week after Jongdae left that he went to the gym later than usual and only got home past midnight. He ran up the stairs, moving his wet hair from his face; even in that colder weather, he was still sweaty. When he reached the stairs between the houses, he found Minseok sitting at the door.

“Hello, hyung,” he mumbled.

Minseok raised his head slowly. He was using his casual clothes, white shirt, and soft, baggy pants and it looked like he was sitting down to feed a cat, but when he looked at Jongin, he could barely open his eyes.

Jongin froze.

“Minseok?”

“Hello,” Minseok said. His sweet, whispery voice was oddly quiet.

“Are you okay?” Jongin ducked down to look better at him.

“Too much coffee,” he said. “I think I… may have…”

Jongin checked his pulse and breath. Too fast.

“What are you feeling right now?”

“Confused,” he whispered.

Jongin picked his phone out of the pocket; he didn’t believe that an ambulance would get there sooner and Minseok seemed stable, but Jongin had no idea of how to take care of him. He asked for a car to come to pick them. 

“I’ll take you to the place where Jongdae works, right?” Jongin said and he tried to hold him under the armpits the gentlest he could. “Just hold on to me and we’ll see what’s wrong with you.”

Minseok didn’t resist, but he was really slow. Jongin could see that he wasn’t feeling well just by his face, but his body was showing signs too. After he put Minseok in the backseat, he took his keys and went back to his apartment to pick his documents. He held Minseok until they reached the hospital and helped to explain what happened.

“Did you consume any energy drink also?” The doctor was checking his eyes, pointing a flashlight to them. Jongin was standing at the door, just watching.

“Yes,” Minseok whispered, barefoot and shirtless on the stretcher.

“Any nausea?” She asked, turning off the flashlight. “Tremors?”

“Nausea,” he repeated weakly. She nodded and said something Jongin didn’t understand, but the nurse probably did. Jongin was shaking his leg and biting his nails until she turned to face him.

“I don’t think you should worry. It’s a common response to high levels of caffeine,” she said, but Jongin couldn’t look at her while the nurse was moving Minseok. “He’s not seriously affected, so a gastric lavage isn’t needed. We’ll give him medicine and wait for a little to see how he will react.”

Jongin nodded because he wasn’t sure of what exactly he was supposed to do next.

“You can wait outside,” she informed him and handed him a piece of paper. Jongin walked out, unsure. He didn’t like the environment, even if the place was clean and organized. He decided to walk out and wait in front of the building since it wasn’t raining.

He sat down on the stairs and rubbed his legs. He didn’t put a coat and now he was truly feeling the cold. He picked his phone from the pocket and searched through the names until deciding to call.

Chanyeol took a while to answer.

“ _Hello,_ ” he said and Jongin could hear loud noise after. “ _Jongin?_ ”

“Hello, it’s me.”

“ _What… how are you?_ ”

“I’m good,” Jongin said slowly, ignoring how Chanyeol sounded sleepy. “Minseok isn’t. I brought him to see a doctor.”

“ _Fuck, what happened?_ ”

“Too much caffeine and I’m almost sure he hadn’t been sleeping or eating well,” Jongin said slowly, watching the passerby. “He’s being medicated.”

“ _It’s the thesis thing,”_ Chanyeol sighed. “ _He’s pushing himself too hard. Do you need any help?_ ”

“No. I just needed to talk to someone and Jongdae is taking a break. You know he would come if he knew about it and it’s not necessary.”

“ _Yeah, he would. That’s clever… but are you sure you don’t need anything?_ ”

“Not really. He was sick before but I’m sure he will get better…”

“ _I just worried because you’re not in the best condition to help a sick person—”_

“Chanyeol, my leg is just fine, I can do anything,” Jongin said, annoyed. He was already regretting the call. “I helped him and I run at the gym. I could carry you and fuck your ass at the same time.”

“ _Well, fuck, if I wouldn’t love to see that, you should do it!_ ” Chanyeol laughed. “ _I didn’t mean to offend you._ ”

“Sorry,” Jongin whispered. “Bad night.”

“ _I know. Thanks for calling me, anyway. I’m at the studio and I needed to breathe.”_

“Isn’t it a bit late?”

“ _The best time to work.”_

“I see,” Jongin pushed his hair back. “I’ll go inside. Thanks for listening. Keep up the good work.”

“ _I miss you_ ,” Chanyeol said, sounding serious. “ _I really miss you, Jonginnie_.”

“See you,” Jongin said.

 

 

 

 

 

**CHAPTER XI – THE CIRCLE**

**.**

 

[“Do you like it, Jonginnie?”

He held his dad’s hand, excited and smiled, showing his missing teeth.

“I love it,” he screamed, pointing to the sax. “That one! I like that one!”]

 

He held the Little Prince and opened it. He wanted to throw it away a thousand times, but he loved that book. He loved to read it out loud and he couldn’t wait until he could read for kids again.

He closed the book and picked his laptop, walking to the room where Minseok was sleeping. His cat was sleeping next to him and Jongin went to check if he was okay. He needed to sleep, so Jongin turned off the lights and sat next to the bed to write.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what do you think so far?


	7. XII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s on the house,” the man said simply. Of course, Jongin knew what that meant. He sat straight on the table, fixing the cloth napkins on his hand and asked innocently,
> 
> “Oh, that’s sweet, but it wouldn’t be even better if they come here so we can thank for this gentle gesture?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mental health issues, alcohol, addiction!jokes

 

**CHAPTER XII – THE RE-STAR-T**

**.**

 

Jongdae returned home while Jongin was in the gym. It was raining, cold and Jongin had to use a coat, even after the exercise. He went straight to Minseok’s, because he had to check to see if he was sleeping and eating or just taking breaks while writing. Jongin even dragged him out on the rain to eat out. Minseok wasn’t there, so he went back home and found him helping Jongdae and Taeyeon to unpack.

“Hello,” Jongin said, smiling. They were carrying bags and Minseok was unfolding and folding clothes, sitting on the couch.

“Hello,” Jongdae sang happily from the kitchen.

“Yes, Jongin, I’m fine,” Minseok said, giggling, folding a blanket that matched his red socks. “Can you believe that an actual baby has been checking on me?”

“I would say that you deserve it,” Taeyeon picked a box, shaking her blonde hair. “You’re like the first person I know that almost had a caffeine overdose.”

“You would be surprised by how many people show up at the hospital like that,” Jongdae said. “But you know, most of them are just partying or facing their finals, so…”

“That’s excused?” She asked, shocked. “That’s not a fucking reason to die from drinking coffee.”

“It’s not from the coffee,” Jongdae left the kitchen, drying a cup. He had a new haircut and he was using some half-open button t-shirt. “It’s from all the things that come with it, like not sleeping or pushing themselves too hard. Actually, caffeine overdose mostly happens when you take caffeine pills because in coffee the amount of caffeine isn’t that much.”

“Are you tanned?” Jongin asked, shocked.

“Yes, and he also has a tattoo, now,” Taeyeon said, excited, dancing while holding the box. “My sister and my mom live in Paraguay.”

Jongin gaped, but Minseok seemed to already know this information.

“You didn’t tell me it was on the other side of the world,” Jongin complained.

“You know what’s worst? He has no social media,” Minseok pointed. “We would never know about it. I know which Japan Ice-cream flavor Chanyeol is into now, but I don’t even know which city Jongdae visited.”

“It’s good to live my life only for myself,” Jongdae said. “Can I drink coffee or it’s like… we’ll have to hide the coffee from the addict right there?”

“Oh, that’s _so funny_ ,” Minseok rolled his eyes. “Show me your tattoo and we have a deal.”

Jongin took his shoes off quickly to join them on the couch. The tattoo was on his neck and it was tiny, written in thin calligraphy.

“It means purpose,” Jongdae said. “Taeyeon has one like that.”

“Mine is near my elbow,” she explained, still too busy unpacking things. “That’s not a couple tattoo, I guess.”

Jongin sighed, pushing his wet hair back.

“I’ll tattoo something soon,” he nodded. “I like the idea of getting one. I just have to figure out what exactly I want to tattoo.”

“I didn’t know what I wanted until I was there,” Jongdae pointed. “I mean, sometimes you need to feel it for real. Thinking from far is too abstract.”

“I agree,” Taeyeon said, walking in again, dusting off her denim dungarees. “Oh, have you changed your hair?”

“Yes,” Jongin smiled. “Please notice I’m gaining muscles again.”

“You never lost those,” Minseok said, annoyed. “It’s so frustrating to watch when some of us actually try to have a fit body but genetics don’t help us.”

“Stop with the coffee first, you can’t get muscles when you’re on drugs,” Jongin winked and Jongdae laughed loud, throwing his head back. Minseok stood up to hit Jongin’s arm with his tiny fists.

“Let’s eat out,” Taeyeon pleaded. “I deserve shrimp! Good shrimp!”

“It’s on me,” Jongin said quickly before they could complain about money. “Just let me take a bath.”

Jongin wasn’t thinking much when he took a bath and chose some nice clothes. He was happy to have a lot of people around again, even if he enjoyed the silence and the time for his own projects, but he missed his friends and how it was to have a place full of people coming in. They took Chanyeol’s car and he listened to their stories, suddenly assaulted by the desire to travel, to do something like that.

“Put a place on the GPS,” Minseok asked and Jongin took the phone. He wanted to take them to a fancy place. He wanted to give back to those people who treated him nicely and embraced him during such a dark moment.

His fingers moved on his own.

After they arrived – and that took a while: his entire road playlist – Jongdae ran in to get someone to give them an umbrella, because it started to rain again. Jongin didn’t check the reservations, but it was easy to get them in during a weekday. He knew the schedule well; if you had to book a table for any weekend, you should better call at least a month before.

“That’s very elegant,” Taeyeon noticed. “If had warned me, I would change the sneakers for high heels.”

“Me too,” Minseok joked.

“It’s not that fancy,” Jongin explained, showing the menu. “Believe me, the prices are okay and the food isn’t very… odd.”

“The names are in English or French,” Jongdae frowned. “It’s like I’m in Paraguay again.”

“I can read for you,” Minseok offered. Jongin joined them to explain the dishes. Because the place wasn’t crowded and they arrived in a late hour, they were served quickly. Jongin asked for wine to relax a little.

“… so the song was saying ‘kiss my ass’ in Spanish,” Taeyeon was saying, trying to contain her laugh, “and Jongdae decided to sing this acapella, like, only this part, and my mother was so confused on the kitchen, she came to me and asked… ‘is he like this back at home too’?”

Minseok was laughing; Jongin was almost falling from his chair.

“She didn’t warn me,” Jongdae was blushing, but still smiling. “No one warned me!”

“And he knows how to reproduce accents, his spelling is amazing,” she was giggling. “Everyone understood, like, everyone. And they hardly understand me when I try to speak in Spanish.”

The waiter was waiting patiently next to the table until he could say something. Jongin wiped his eyes and turned to the poor man before he could open his mouth.

“Can you bring us another wine and then the bill?”

The waiter nodded, leaving.  Jongdae was hiding his face, obviously embarrassed.

“That’s amazing,” Minseok said. “I wish I could have seen it.”

“I still can sing for you,” Jongdae shrugged. “Finish your thesis and you get this prize.”

“Ah, this is a headache,” Minseok sighed. “I don’t think I’ll ever finish it…”

It sounded serious, so Jongin stared at him, touching his arm. “Of course, you can finish it, hyung. You’re great.”

Minseok bit his finger; his cat-like face and gestures were soft and he didn’t look hurt or sad.

“I’m not lacking confidence. I know I can do it,” he said. “I just… don’t want to?”

“What do you mean?” Taeyeon asked gently.

“I’m not interested in the subject anymore,” he said simply. “So, writing about it is an obligation, not a pleasure at all. I’m counting the days until the Thesis Defense Day.”

“How many pages are left?” Jongin asked curiously.

“About fifty,” Minseok sighed. “Let’s change the subject. I don’t want to think about that now.”

The waiter brought the wine and the bill and Jongin gave his card without looking.

“We should drink this at home,” Taeyeon said. “Otherwise we’ll get too drunk around Minseok and it’s mean to be high around an ex-addict.”

Even Minseok laughed this time.

“Give me a break,” he pouted.

The man returned the card, but it came back with no receipts on the box.

“It’s on the house,” the man said simply. Of course, Jongin knew what that meant. He sat straight on the table, fixing the cloth napkins on his hand and asked innocently,

“Oh, that’s sweet, but it wouldn’t be even better if they come here so we can thank you for this gentle gesture?”

“I would like to thank the chef,” Taeyeon said. “It was the best shrimp spaghetti I ever ate in my life.”

“Just a moment,” the waiter asked. Jongin stared at his own reflection on the unused spoon, but the rest of the table didn’t pay attention to him. Kyungsoo left the kitchen like he was dressed every day. Under the white, oversized apron, he was using his casual black clothes and clean sneakers. He passed by other tables before, smiling, bowing and fixing his glasses. Jongin held the table to not bite his nails.

He approached the table and smiled, staring at Jongin’s friends first.

“Hello, I’m Do Kyungsoo, the chef and it’s a pleasure to have you here tonight,” he said. His hair was longer at the top, but his signature undercut was there. “I hope you have enjoyed your meal.”

“The shrimp spaghetti,” Taeyeon closed her mouths in fists and shook them. “So good, so good!”

“Thank you,” he said simply and then he looked to Jongin. Jongin stared back, hands under his chin.

“It was really good,” Jongin said slowly. “You must have really skilled hands.”

Not a single muscle of Kyungsoo’s face moved, but they didn’t break the staring. Jongin felt powerful – from all the scenarios he had in his mind, this was the best one. He didn’t want to cry or run; he was just feeling like he always did when he was around Kyungsoo, that weird drunk in love feeling. Or maybe just drunk – he really enjoyed the wine.

“Thank you,” Kyungsoo finally said, fixing his glasses. “I’m glad to hear that. If you excuse me…”

“That was… intense,” Minseok whispered as soon as Kyungsoo left. “No more wine to Jongin.”

Jongdae kicked Jongin’s feet under the table. Jongin looked at him and the nurse mouthed, ‘keep it in your pants’.

“Let’s go,” Taeyeon said, laughing. She was so drunk that Minseok threw her in his back and ran to the car. Jongdae hugged Jongin.

“That was bold,” he smiled. “I’m somehow proud of you.”

“I’m your little hoe brother,” Jongin nodded. “But did you see? I didn’t panic at all.”

“No, but everyone noticed you staring,” Jongdae said.

“I wasn’t trying to be subtle,” Jongin shrugged.

 

 

 

 

 

When Seulgi arrived at his mother’s house, he still had paint on his face and he was waiting for Raeon to sleep. He knew the kids didn’t like it when he left; they wanted him to stay the night. The time he spent on the bed made they think that he would be around forever. Seulgi was the most patient of his friends, so he had enough time to clean himself and look presentable. The theater was near his mother’s house and they walked there with the two security men she brought; he helped her to walk since she was using high heels.

“Is it weird that I have never watched his musicals before?” Jongin asked. It was cold, but the sky was clear. They were both using black and their hairstyles matched coincidentally.

“Well, it’s his passion since high school,” she said simply. “That’s also why he’s in the music business.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Jongin pouted.

“I don’t know,” she smiled. “I have never watched it either.”

Sehun was waiting for them and he was impeccably dressed, holding his phone tightly, the tickets shinning on his pocket. He was nervous because he was a supportive friend; Jongin knew that he probably brought flowers to praise Junmyeon.

They were photographed together by the door, but it was too early for any crowd. They entered and, inside, he felt that aura, that feeling of anticipation and anxiousness that came before any presentation, even if he was there to watch.

The second row, behind the critics and the media. Jongin sat down, touched the velvet fabric and watched the familiar faces, distracted.

The lights went off.

The play was long – two hours. Junmyeon’s make-up was heavy as the historical clothes, but he did it perfectly, hitting every note, not missing any step. Jongin watched him in awe and felt dumb for not bringing flowers, not showering in presents. He knew everyone’s eyes were on him, so he was okay with just one hug backstage before leaving.

“I’ll call you,” he told Jongin, smiling.

Jongin left without his friends. He wasn’t used to security and crowds, so he asked his sister to pick him; he waited outside of the theater, but still inside of the gates, watching people leaving, right next to the group smoking and that was how he noticed the familiar silhouette resting on the wall.

“Oh my god,” he walked to her. “Are you smoking?”

Soojung looked up and frowned. She was using a turtleneck shirt and glasses that made her look older, but with the cigarette between her fingers and her blasé look, she always looked like she was posing for a magazine.

“And you’re healed,” she raised one eyebrow. “Guess the night is full of surprises.”

He sighed, waving the smoke away.

“Are you still mad?”

“I’m a Scorpio,” she said.

“Like I could forget that,” Jongin snorted. “I’m sorry. You really got me in a bad moment. I was just hit by a car.”

This time she laughed.

“I’m not mad,” she said. “It’s just frustrating to talk to you sometimes. You used to tell me all the secrets and there was no problem. What’s the point of trying to be friends if you’re going to treat me like a stranger?”

Jongin moved so a person could pass by them and he glanced at his phone to see if his sister was arriving.

“I’m thinking about writing a children’s book,” he said. “Like my dad wanted to. I have his drawings and I know the stories, so. I’m thinking about that. You’re the only person who knows it now. I know you can keep a secret.”

“Trust a Scorpio,” Soojung smiled.

“Definitely,” he nodded.

“Why are you hiding on that house?” She asked, turning her head to blow the smoke. “I thought it would be the perfect excuse for you to hide in Paris.”

“Someone decided it for me,” he looked down at their shining shoes. “As always.”

“I’m moving back home,” she stated, and Jongin knew it meant the US, where her family lived. “This isn’t working here.”

“This?” He asked.

“My life,” Soojung explained and he snorted. “What? Is that funny?”

“Not your personal crisis,” he said. “I just realized that most people have actual problems and are unsatisfied with things.”

“Shocking,” she threw the cigarette butt on the ground and stepped on it. “I’m actually fine, but I want more and I think this… country is very suffocating. I want to be where things are happening.”

His phone rang.

“I have to go,” Jongin waved. “Call me if you need any help.”

“I won’t need it,” she said simply.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jongin made a mess inside his room, pushing the furniture to create a space on the floor to set a huge empty poster. He was following planning tips from a book, but unfortunately, they didn’t teach how to fix natural clumsiness, so the poster was… confusing and dirty (Jongin kept stepping on it and dropping food, even if Jongdae always asked him to not eat inside of the room).

He drove alone (in Chanyeol’s car) to his house to make a copy of his father’s drawings and then, feeling guilty, stopped in a car wash and fixed everything he could. Then, he called Chanyeol to warn him about it.

“ _Well, thank you, then,_ ” he said, sleepy. “ _That’s super nice.”_

“You always sound like you’re exhausted,” Jongin sighed. “Are you okay there?”

“ _Yeah, but my routine is like… inverse. I’m working at nights and I bought a telescope, so… I sleep during the day. So it’s making me sleepy and confused… but I’m writing again.”_

“Fuck, really?” Jongin cursed without noticing. “That’s great news, Chanyeol!”

“ _Yes, but I don’t think the lyrics will be included. This is… not the vibe of the album we’re doing. Maybe I’ll ask Jongdae to sing. Or maybe Taeyeon-noona, they both sing very well.”_

“Or maybe you can do it yourself.”

“ _No, it’s… I want someone who’s more skilled than me. I feel like I waited so much to write again, those are my babies. They deserve the best.”_

“How about the dog?” Jongin mocked. “Aren’t you a daddy already?”

“ _Not sure if I’m going to keep him… we… I mean…_ ” He answered with a quiet voice. “ _But that’s fine. There are lots of dogs outside that need love._ ”

“Okay, that’s true,” Jongin said. “Are you going to stay there until November?”

“ _Maybe, I’m not sure. I guess I could at least come back to say hi if I get a break, right?”_

“That would be nice,” Jongin says absently while a man waves to inform him that the car is ready to go. He waves back and nods. “I just called to say that. Take care of yourself, right?”

“ _Right,_ ” Chanyeol answers happily. “ _Are you missing me?_ ”

“Of course,” Jongin said. “You’re the one that never calls.”

“ _But that doesn’t mean I forgot you. I’m just… too busy and I don’t want to call you at three a.m. and say… nothing important.”_

“You better don’t. I need a full night of sleep now I’m back to exercising,” Jongin snorted. “I need to pick the car. Bye!”

Jongin ran back to get the keys and he couldn’t remember if Chanyeol said ‘bye’ too.

 

 

 

 

“I’m lost,” he said, but it was pointless to talk when she was witnessing how messy his planner looked like.

Taeyeon jumped from one side to other, managing to land perfectly without stepping on anything. Then, she pushed the pillows away from the poster and sat down next to it.

“How much have you done?” She said, reading it.

“I wrote the stories from my memory, so… the raw text is there,” he sighed. “I have the drawings, as you can see a copy of them… I know where I want to ask for the edition.”

“That place in the US?” She asked, grabbing a pen. “Right?”

“Yeah, the same that did my Little Prince edition,” Jongin explained and he wanted to kneel, but last time he did, at the gym, he got cramps. His leg wasn’t that healed as he thought.

“That’s a good start,” she said. “But you forgot a lot of steps.”

Jongin decided to pick a chair; his tea was on the table warm and untouched.

“Like what?”

She sighed, crossing her legs.

“It’s great that you know how you want to do for the layout,” she gestured. “But that’s… the last thing to do. I mean, even that text will be modified after the revision. They’ll probably won’t publish it as you want. After all, the content must be organized and… well, thinking about the fact that the book will be a product, they need to polish it so it could be marketable.”

“I wasn’t thinking about that,” Jongin realized. “Actually, I want to donate the money.”

“But that’s not the point,” she raised a finger. “The point is that normally the book is sold and then there’s a ‘special edition’. Of course, people will want to publish whatever you want to, because you’re an artist, a celebrity and you already have the attention. For book publishing, well this is good… but don’t go thinking they won’t modify the text or…”

Jongin sighed, shaking his legs anxiously.

“Okay,” he grabbed his teacup. “I know. It’s just that… this is so important to me.”

“Why?” She asked cutely, holding her face with both hands; she already looked like a kid, but now it was hard to believe that she was actually older than him.

“My dad wanted to write this book… and he got a few things ready, especially after my niece was born because it was his first grandchild and the last time that he told stories for kids was when I was a child. He got sick and then he never finished it,” he explained slowly, memories hitting him. “I just wanted to—”

“So that’s why you wanted to read stories for kids?” She asked, smiling. “I mean, I know you volunteered because they offered, right, but from all the things on the world, you chose that.”

“Never thought about it,” Jongin blinked. “I just like books and I like when people read them for me. It’s different from just reading them myself… when you listen, then it’s more real, you know? You get the emotion. Like music.”

“Yes,” she nodded. “I know.”

“Can you help me with those?” He let his shoulders fall. “I don’t know much and it’s been stressing me…”

“I can give you tips,” she nodded. “But I don’t work with those books specifically. I guess I can get you some numbers?”

Jongdae opened the door and brought her tea and meds. Jongin watched how she took the pills easily and unashamed.

“If you want to eat, leave the room,” he warned.

“Okay, mom,” Taeyeon mocked. She started to write things on the poster and Jongin drank the rest of his tea, staring at the window. It was cold outside and he wanted to stay in bed and do nothing, but at the same time enjoy the fact that he was finally focusing on something other than his health.

“Do you see a therapist?”

“Yes,” she said.

“It’s frustrating. All that talk for nothing.”

“The trick with therapy is that you think that the professional is there to give you answers, but the thing is that it doesn’t matter.”

He stared down at her, confused. She shrugged.

“If they say, ‘oh, you hate your mom because she loved your brother more than you’, you don’t have to believe it. It’s not a law? Or the truth. But you can think about it and maybe get to the conclusion that in fact, you don’t hate your mother or maybe you do, but because she didn’t give you the love you needed, or maybe just because she was indeed a psychopath.”

“Mental health is confusing,” Jongin said. “I know what to do to fix my leg, but when it’s about my mind…”

“Yes,” she agreed. “Sometimes we don’t even know why it’s broken, in the first place.”

Jongin rubbed his arms slowly.

“It makes me feel bad to see the bad things I’ve done and how someone can see through me.”

“Yeah, but we can’t fix what we can’t see,” she said simply, in a distracted way, while writing. “Accepting that we’re just garbage is the first step to grow.”

“That sounds like nice advice,” Jongin said.

.

 

 

 

Jongin: _Sorry for not answering your message. Let’s talk._

 

 

 

_._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any guesses?


	8. XIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Did you walk away because you thought it would make me better?” Jongin asked and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. “Did you?”

 

 

 

**CHAPTER XIII – FATE**

**.**

 

 

 

He was leaning on the luggage, playing with the keys, looking at people’s feet walking, leaving, returning. Airports are a nonplace, he thought. Just a really long corridor.

Jongdae’s beige sneakers were on his way. Jongin looked up.

“Hot tea,” he smiled.

It was like that; after barely getting sleep and being so anxious that he couldn’t drive, Jongin teared up because of tea.

“Why are you crying?” Jongdae’s eyes widened and he squatted to touch Jongin’s face.

“I never traveled by myself like that,” he mumbled, but it wasn’t that. “The unknown scares me.”

“Don’t you have everything you need?” Jongdae asked. “I’ll be on my phone in case you get lost. Taeyeon went to New York a thousand times, she can—”

“She gave me lots of tips,” Jongin says, accepting Jongdae’s tea. “I’m okay, hyung. I wasn’t talking about traveling. I am just…”

Jongdae sat next to him; Jongin blew the tea gently.

“So many things happened,” he started. “I’m really starting from scratch again and it makes me feel like a kid.”

He sipped the tea and Jongdae wiped his eyes using the fluffy sweater sleeve.

“But are you happy?”

“I am,” Jongin said firmly. “Yes, I am. I’m just… I’m not used to be the new guy or that starting from zero but I’m excited. It’s overwhelming.”

Jongdae held Jongin’s hand softly and it was hard for Jongin to imagine being away from the physical affection that he was getting since he moved to the house in the woods. _It’s just a few days,_ he told himself, but he wanted to cry again.

“You really don’t waste a second around men,” a familiar voice said. “I can’t even blink and you got a new eye candy.”

Jongin turned to see who was it, too deep in his emotions to recognize the voice. It was Sehun, standing there like a mirage, too tall and lanky in his all black clothes, cap, and glasses, hiding in plain sight. Jongin stared at him for long seconds before reacting, because he needed to be sure that he wasn’t dreaming.

“What… what are you doing here?” Jongin asked, sitting on the same spot, frozen.

“I came to see you,” Sehun shrugged. “I had a free day. Soojung told me you would be here, so here I am. Is that your new boyfriend?”

“Yes,” Jongin said. “His name is Jongdae.”

Jongdae punched him playfully and then took the cup from his hand.

“I’m his housemate and he’s a cry baby,” he explained to Sehun. “We’ve met before, haven’t we?”

“Oh, yes, yes,” Sehun nodded. “I’m sorry.”

Jongin stood up to give his friend a hug. Sehun hugged him back, leaning his face on Jongin’s shoulder and they didn’t move for more than a minute. Jongin knew that this was exactly what he was waiting for; a love gesture, a reinforcement. He needed to know that besides all the shit that they have been through, they would remain friends.

“I’m happy to see you,” he said, breaking the hug. Sehun shrugged again because he wasn’t very good at showing his feelings face-to-face.

“I missed you,” Sehun said. “Hope you have fun in New York.”

“I’ll try to, I swear,” Jongin smiled, unable to think about something interesting to say. Or at least, a bit more emotional. He could only find the right words when he was already boarding and then it was too late. He spent the long flight watching movies and sleeping, trying to calm down a little, to not feed any of the monsters living inside his head.

He didn’t have trouble hailing a taxi and he’s hyperaware of his bad pronunciation, but the taxi driver understood every word. Jongin held his bag like a child and shook his legs anxiously until they arrived to the destination. Then, he just had to do what he was used to when he was a musician, he was no stranger to hotels and traveling, after all.

He spent the night there and slept well to look decent at the meeting, but ate too much at the breakfast table, so unused to fancy, well done and warm food. It had been months of cold donuts, bad coffee and cereal and it made him a bit slow after it, almost napping on the taxi, on the waiting room.

The artist wasn’t in the publishing house that day but Jongin talked to the Editor-in-chief and her team, which he was aware that was only being accessible due to Jongin’s famous name.

They offered him a thousand copies deal but Jongin offered to pay for a few expenses, so he got a five thousand deal. Of course, they were surprised that he wasn’t interested in money; Jongin argued that any business had to start with an investment and he was just being his own investor. They showed him around and served coffee and Jongin was much more interested in the nice sky outside than in small talk.

It was cold when he left, so he decided to walk back to the hotel, maybe catch a bus. In a cornerstone, he found a group of musicians playing jazz. The saxophonist was the standing on the front and for the first time in so long, he didn’t feel weird or bad while watching them. He felt nostalgic and touched by it, closing his eyes and appreciating the song.

He threw a few dollar bills inside their hat and kept walking.

 

 

 

.

 

He woke up early and stared at the ceiling for an entire hour. The bed was soft and he didn’t want to go back to reality so soon, but his phone started to ring insistently.

“Hello,” Jongin gave up, yawning.

“ _How long will you be there?_ ” Chanyeol asked.

Jongin blinked many times, forcing his brain to work.

“Where I am now…?” He mumbled.

“ _Yeah. I know where you are. Ok, that sounded creepy… Jongdae told me where you are.”_

“Today… at night, no, wait, it’ll be at midnight so, I guess it’ll be tomorrow,” he asked, confused. “Well, I’ll go to the airport tonight. I’ll be back home tomorrow night, I guess.”

“ _Ah_ ,” Chanyeol sighed and he sounded disappointed.

“Why?” Jongin sat up and stretched.

“ _I was thinking about giving myself a break here, it’s been exhausting. I could use that as an excuse?”_

“Are you insane?” Jongin laughed nervously. “We’re on different sides of the world.”

“ _The world is a ball and_ _I don’t care about details, Jongin. I only see the big picture.”_

Jongin rolled his eyes, smiling.

“Come see me when I’m back, then,” Jongin said.

“ _Then I won’t want to leave. I miss my house, you know. My friends and the stray cats._ ”

“I thought Japan was your second home,” Jongin mocked. “And much more interesting than your boring home country.”

“ _It used to be,_ ” Chanyeol said simply with a quiet voice.

Jongin didn’t catch the tone.

“Well, I’ll be home soon, so warn me if you want to visit,” he said, jumping off the bed.

“ _Fine,_ ” Chanyeol sighed. “ _Don’t get too crazy without supervision._ ”

“I’m boring, Chanyeol,” Jongin said before turning off the phone. No more calls, he thought. He put on nice clothes and went out to see the streets.

 

 

 

.

 

Jongin had exact twenty-four hours before going to the new ‘super-fun’ restaurant in town. He cleaned his space, went to the gym, tried to make pancakes and eventually read a book. He was anxious. He chose the yellow t-shirt and the simple jeans and he was aware that no matter how casual they looked, they were expensive and people knew it. A tiny bit of makeup to give him the courage to go.

Fifteen minutes trying to get out of the car and thinking about what he wanted to say.

To his absolute horror, Kyungsoo was already there when he walked in.

It was a colorful, modern place with pop songs playing and people eating fries with their hands. Kyungsoo, alone in a table, in all black from head to toe, was the easiest focal point. Jongin suddenly understood – not that it was a difficult thing to figure out – that Kyungsoo chose the place because he didn’t want any dramatic scene. 

Jongin took his seat, smiling; it was soft and comfortable. It was such a hazy day and the warmness around made it simpler to focus on their conversation. Kyungsoo was dressed formally, those daddy shirts he bought to talk to important people, expensive shoes, hair parted sideways like he was in a meeting or just another thing before a meeting. Jongin tried his best to not look jealous or unimportant, to express his real words, his real thoughts.  

“Hello.”

Kyungsoo looked at him, nodding.

“Good evening,” he said. “I asked them to bring juice for you. They tend to take a while to bring food.”

“That’s nice, thanks,” Jongin said, losing a part of his braveness just witnessing by this simple act of gentleness. “I’m not hungry.”

“You look really well,” Kyungsoo says, too serious. “You had an amazing recovery, I imagine.”

“I had, yes, I took care of myself, I guess, for the first time,” Jongin said, thinking about how he overworked, too happy to be doing what he loved, the nights playing, the days when he was running around, having gigs and meetings. “Physically and mentally well.”

“I’m happy to hear this, I’m truly happy,” he said, and it sounded sincere, by the way his fingers were slowly rubbing the menu.

“How are you?” Jongin asked, used every fiber in his body to not sound too bitter. “You got a Michelin star now. You must be happy.”

“I want another,” Kyungsoo said simply and Jongin snorted because, well, he wasn’t expecting any other answer. “I need three stars before I sell my restaurant.”

Jongin gaped, always too impressionable.

“Are you going to sell your restaurant?”

“One day, far in the future,” Kyungsoo nodded, sitting straight. “Not now.”

“But how are you?” Jongin asked again because he learned his lesson and work wasn’t everything.

“I’m fine,” Kyungsoo said and it wasn’t that sincere, or at least, Jongin knew better. He saw Kyungsoo saying the same thing after cooking the whole day with a dislocated shoulder. “I’m healthy.”

A hundred words danced inside his mind and he couldn’t choose a single one. He had a prepared speech – he would ramble about how bad he was in the past, apologies, talk about how much he changed, how the last months made him reborn in so many ways. But then, he would still talk to someone who barely changed his opinions and he couldn’t change Kyungsoo’s perception. It was easy to fantasize about that, but now, staring at him…

“I’m sorry,” Jongin said, eyes burning. He didn’t have to explain any further.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Kyungsoo looked down. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.”

Jongin almost laughed, frustrated.

“No, I did, I mean it,” he pressed his eyes and took a breath. “I was in a really bad place when we were together and you were the only good thing in my life. I didn’t want you to leave me… I didn’t want you to outgrow me because then you would leave me like everyone else, you would find something or someone better than me and I acted like a fool, I tried to control you and I know it was abusive. I lost control.”

Kyungsoo stared at him in silence, too serious. There was a pop song playing, loud and clear, talking about getting over someone and Jongin hated it. The whole unfamiliarity and casual surroundings. He suddenly realized that, if he was in Paris, having this exact same conversation, even if his heart was broken, even if Kyungsoo spat on his face, it would have meaning. Not in that place, though.

“Why didn’t you allow me to pay you a visit?”

“I was ashamed,” Jongin mumbled. “I didn’t want your pity or remorse.”

Kyungsoo nodded, avoiding his gaze.

 “I knew you were sick back then,” he said with a quiet voice. “But I was too close-minded to help you. I thought you had to deal with yourself, that you didn’t need help.”

“That wasn’t your job, you know, to help me. Though I would love if you asked for help,” Jongin said and he smiled fondly. “We’re very stubborn, aren’t we?”

Kyungsoo didn’t answer; his fingers were drawing something on the table.

“I wished I could have been helping through this,” he said after a long moment. “It made me think that I wasn’t ready to lose you. I was terrified.”

A spark of hope made Jongin sit straight, alert. He didn’t dare to blink. He waited for any other word that didn’t come. It was frustrating and yet he couldn’t put in words how he felt.

“I would love to hear that before,” Jongin tried to not sound emotional. “It would help me to recover, to know that you cared about me.”

“You think I didn’t?” Kyungsoo asked quickly, blinking.

“No,” Jongin sighed. “Of course not. I just… wanted to listen. I want to listen, Kyungsoo. Your silence kills me every time. I’m no good at trying to figure you out.”

Kyungsoo pressed his lips into a line and looked away.

“You’re good with words,” he said. “And I’m not.”

Jongin bit his nails, trying to swallow his words. The cycle had started. Now, Jongin would say ‘you’re not even trying’ and then Kyungsoo would answer defensively and retreat himself back to his shell. That would infuriate Jongin and he would be mean, because he was desperate, because he needed that and again Kyungsoo didn’t meet his expectations.

He thought about Jongdae, Chanyeol, Minseok, Taeyeon, and Baekhyun. He thought about Sehun and his confession, about Seulgi and Soojung.

“I still love you,” Jongin said. He would break his heart and then glue it back again, just like he did with his leg.

Kyungsoo’s eyes widened – was he surprised? Jongin would probably never know. It didn’t seem to be a secret. It felt easy to say, at least.

“That’s not something you should keep,” Kyungsoo said. “You’re better off without me.”

“Why?” Jongin asked calmly, used to his rejection.

“You look different,” Kyungsoo said, facing the table. “You look better now. Happier.”

“That’s not because of your absence,” Jongin frowned and he finally felt like he could say something without crying. “That had to do with me and my life. My love isn’t a bad thing, Kyungsoo. Please don’t think that it made me sick. I was sick even before I met you.”

Kyungsoo didn’t look convinced and then Jongin understood. He realized like a fucking brick on his face waking him up from a hazy dream: Kyungsoo believed that he was responsible for everything.

“Did you walk away because you thought it would make me better?” Jongin asked and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. “Did you?”

Kyungsoo didn’t look at him.

“Please,” Jongin touched his face, shocked. “I thought you couldn’t stand me anymore. You kicked me out, Kyungsoo. You blacklisted me. You broke my heart a thousand times. Don’t tell me that you made that decision because you thought it was best for me.”

Jongin remembered the bad taste in his mouth when he left that night, holding his black shirt and the tears.

“What else I could have done?” Kyungsoo asked quietly. “You didn’t listen to me or anyone.”

Jongin stood up, angry and looked around before sitting down again. Don’t make a scene, he said to himself.

“You didn’t say shit,” he spat, an angry whisper. “You never say shit, damn it, you make me mad.”

Kyungsoo was retreating, he could feel. It was useless. It was an endless cycle. Jongin needed to go – he was wrong, he wasn’t ready yet. He climbed every degree and fell down the stairs, hit by a car that damaged both legs this time; they didn’t respond. He was stuck forever.

“I don’t understand,” Jongin said. “If you’re so convinced that we’re no good, then why are you here?”

Kyungsoo’s fingers were moving in an awkward way. He was nervous. Jongin stared at him, disarmed and resigned.

“You love me,” Jongin said. “And just like me, you can’t let it go.”

It didn’t feel like a victory. It felt like reading the signs while traveling, giving meaning to foreign words. It suddenly felt like he could read every one of Kyungsoo’s moves.

“Do you know about Sehun’s feelings?” Jongin asked casually, remembering how mysterious and distant Kyungsoo was acting when they met at Sehun’s house.

Kyungsoo nodded. Jongin felt relieved, somehow; it was better this way.

“Don’t tell him,” Kyungsoo pleaded.

“I wouldn’t,” he whispered.

There was a heavy silence that haunted them until someone brought Jongin’s juice – which was a blessing since his throat was dry. He thought about how many things needed to be said and it felt even harder to open his mouth.

“This was a mistake,” Jongin said. “We shouldn’t have met so soon.”

“Soon?” Kyungsoo asked and he seemed disappointed. “I’m trying to talk to you for months.”

“And what exactly are you talking about now?” Jongin was serious. “Is that what you had in mind when you sent me a message?”

Kyungsoo didn’t answer and that’s it. Jongin didn’t have the patience to stay anymore – maybe it was a sign that he was moving on, this time, almost literally. He threw money on the table and stood up, nervous, without looking back. He knew that Kyungsoo wouldn’t try to intercept him and he wouldn’t say anything.

He could hear his therapist’s voice asking him to try to not control things, _let it flow, Jongin._ He wouldn’t change anyone in the world. He wouldn’t stop people from growing up, walking away, finding his path, he couldn't control his own tastes, he _couldn’t_ force himself or anyone else to change or not change.

Stop resisting, stop resisting, he started to hum.

The drizzle didn’t stop him from his mind haziness, from his deep thoughts. He really made a crisis out of not loving to play an instrument. He really ruined the hell out of his friendships by trying to keep them away from his mess, from being envious of their lives. He was trying to resist anything, trying to control the uncontrollable, forever weeping dead bodies, sometimes literally.

He heard the car first and thought, _it’ll happen again._ _I’ll be dead because I couldn’t pay attention to reality. It’ll hit me and this time, there’ll be nothing left of me besides my stubbornness._

But nothing hit him. He was still on the sidewalk; he wasn’t even walking anymore.

“Get in the car, it’s raining,” Kyungsoo almost begged, looking like a kid holding the steering wheel. “Are you listening to me?”

Jongin was frozen on the sidewalk. His body remembered; the memory was there. He didn’t dare to cross the street this time.

“How long…?” He asked, gulping.

“Get in,” Kyungsoo asked again kindly. “You’re wet.”

“No,” Jongin said. “I’m tired.”

“I came to say something but I was afraid that you didn’t want to hear anymore. I have bad timing,” he confessed. “When I knew about the star, I missed you. I came home and you weren’t there so I wasn’t happy. I hope you’re happy without me but I’m not happy without you.”

Jongin looked at his face framed by the car window halfway down and saw his reflex there like somehow, they melted in one, Jongin’s neck, his face. And it was true, he realized. He was also the sax, his dad, his family, his friends and everyone else and he had the right to feel the pain when he lost them, when he missed them because he would never be himself completely.

“Close the window,” Jongin said. “Open the door.”

 

 

 

.

 

The phone rang at 3:33 o’clock and that’s why Jongin kept his eyes open, staring at the clock instead of ignoring the call. He stepped out of the bed, naked and barefoot and left the room, closing the door behind him.

“Hello,” he said, confused.

“ _Hello_ ,” Chanyeol said, sniffing. “ _Did I wake you up?_ ”

“Maybe,” Jongin yawned, sitting on the couch. He could feel the fabric against his skin.

“ _Sorry,_ ” he mumbled. “ _I had to rant before I went crazy._ ”

“That’s okay,” Jongin softened his voice. “What happened?”

“ _I don’t like Japan anymore, I don’t like anything here,”_ he said like a child. _“I wrote my feelings out. There’s nothing left to love here._ ”

Jongin didn’t know what to say to comfort him. If they were in the same room, he would hug Chanyeol, which would be a thousand times better.

 _“It’s been like that for a while,_ ” he continued, “ _but now that I wrote songs, it’s worse. It’s bad. I walk around like this is a ghost town, like it’s a prison. There’s nothing here that interesses me anymore. No one. I hate this.”_

Jongin could argue that Chanyeol just needed to move out, of course. But places had different meanings. If he arrived in Paris and he hated it, then another piece of his would be dead.

“ _Is everyone okay?”_ He sniffed loudly.

“Yes,” Jongin said absently. “We’re fine.”

“ _I miss you all,_ ” Chanyeol whispered. “ _But I miss you the most, Jonginnie_.”

“I miss you too,” Jongin said sincerely. “That place is boring without you around.”

Chanyeol didn’t say anything for a while but Jongin could hear him breathing. It made him sleepy again.

“ _I don’t wanna blame you because that’s entirely my fault, but… you really made things worse, you know? A whole country couldn’t compete against you,”_ Chanyeol said casually like he was just wondering. _“I was right back then. You have this heartbreaker aura and I’m weak.”_

Jongin said nothing. He took a while to absorb those words, to give them their real meaning, the sentence behind the sentence.

He let the phone fall on the seat, his fingers numb like he was about to sleep. He stood up and walked back to the room, sat on the bed, stared at the ceiling. He had a nightmare one day there and that’s when he started to accept that life would never provide him everything at once, that something would be bad and that was okay, he had to accept good and bad dreams, after all.

He looked to his side and Kyungsoo was still sleeping, his small body curled in a ball – but his glasses were on the nightstand, facing Jongin.

 

 

 

 

.


	9. XIV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sehun pushed his chair back, stood up and started walking away from the table. Jongin was shocked for a second, then he stood up too.
> 
> “No,” Junmyeon pleaded. “Jongin, no, you’ll make things worse.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: drugging someone, angry fighting, trauma, sadness, mourning

 

**CHAPTER XIV**

**THE RING AND THE BROKEN HEARTS**

**.**

 

 

Kyungsoo only said it when they were leaving the airport.

“When we get home, call your mother,” he said, holding the strap of his backpack. “Ask them out for dinner on Monday.”

Jongin frowned but kept walking because damn, it was cold.

“At my house or yours?”

“At the restaurant,” Kyungsoo said simply.

They walked on the sidewalk, looking for cabs.

“I thought that it was closed on Mondays,” he asked, confused.

“It does but I’ll open for them,” Kyungsoo found a cab and raised his arm.

Jongin spent the cab ride thinking about it. Maybe it was because he was sad that he was back home when Tuscany was such a nice place to exist. Kyungsoo was answering messages and Jongin knew that the honeymoon ended and he went back to his professional self. He wasn’t complaining, of course. He took Jongin, who knew nothing about drinks, to a wine route in Italy – when he could easily point that it was a work thing.

“ _Strada del Vino e dell' Olio Chianti Classico_ ,” he said to Jongin like it was understandable.

Jongin learned a few things but he was much more interested in the wine, cheese, and the drunk sex late at night. Jongin ignored every call, every message, didn’t even touch his phone. The place was so gorgeous, the language was warming and his legs didn’t even hurt that much, even if he had to stay sitting in most times.

It was like a dream and Jongin didn’t mind meaning and signs, he just wanted to enjoy it.

That was why he refused to touch his phone after he got home—Kyungsoo’s apartment. He revised a few things that he had been writing, read that book that Moonkyu started reading for him and took long naps. The next day, he went back to the gym and therapy, but only touched his phone to answer his mother and sisters. He felt nervous, suddenly realizing that he was going to meet them with Kyungsoo.

He couldn’t think about anything else, nor even when he was there, helping his nephew to eat. Kyungsoo sat next to his mother, letting Jongin between his sisters as if he was just another guest. Seeing the two of them talking and smiling without including him was enervating. He wanted to know what was happening and it was happening right in front of him and he couldn’t understand.

They left for the kitchen, his mother in her serious-and-fancy dress and Kyungsoo, wearing a gray turtleneck shirt that Jongin had never seen before, that made him look older, respectful.

“What are they talking about so much?”

“Your boyfriend cooks well,” his sister said. “Why didn’t you introduce him before? It’s not like we didn’t know it since—”

She didn’t say anything else but Jongin knew it was ‘since Taemin’. They didn’t have to clarify the event or the subject.

Jongin had a sudden full-body sweat; he put them all in the car on the way out, helped his mother to fasten her seatbelt, waited for something.

“Thanks for inviting us,” she said tiredly. “It was a nice evening.”

He ran back to Kyungsoo, faced him in the kitchen, and stood shaking in anticipation.

“What happened?” He asked.

Kyungsoo was helping the employees to clean, as always. He noticed that Jongin was disturbed, so he held his boyfriend’s arm gently and guided him to the empty tables.

“Sit down,” he said, sweet. Jongin practically fell on the chair, his limbs were numb.

Kyungsoo fumbled in his pocket.

“I wanted to do that in Italy, it was supposed to be romantic,” he showed him a navy velvet box sitting on his palm. “It’s… just a symbol. I wanted to do it before but I didn’t ask your mother first.”

Jongin was gaping. It was like his body was paralyzed, yet his heart was beating way too fast.

“You asked my mother what, Kyungsoo?”

“For you to live with me,” Kyungsoo opened the box and there it was. The most beautiful ring that Jongin had ever seen in his life. Jongin reached it but it seemed so shiny and pretty that he was afraid to ruin by touching it. Kyungsoo himself put it on Jongin’s finger.

Jongin was unable to speak. He lost his voice.

“I’m sorry if I didn’t tell you before, I thought you had talked about—” he gulped, nervous. “But she said she was happy, that I looked like I was a good person. She just asked us to discreet until your enlistment and I agree. Based on my experience, it’ll be better if you say that you’re engaged to a woman, they’re not…”

Jongin started to cry – he didn’t know why, he started to sniff and shake, relief washing down his body, cleansing him. Kyungsoo walked to him, held him, worried.

“I’m so happy,” he said, ugly crying, water down his nose like a baby. “Oh my god, I want to die.”

“I don’t know how to react,” Kyungsoo frowned. “Do you want water?”

Jongin rubbed his eyes with both hands, smiling. He was so happy.

“Thank you,” he mumbled. “Oh my god, thank you.”

Kyungsoo looked lost and Jongin couldn’t help him because he was shocked by his own reaction too. He didn’t cry like that in a long time and he felt good, light, detached from any heavy weight.

They only left the restaurant after everyone was gone. Kyungsoo dropped a few employees home, thanking them very much for being available. Jongin was so happy that he was the one to run to the doors, excited to stare at his ring in peace all night long.

They had guests. They were sitting at the lobby, in the tiny red couch, talking.

“Hello,” Jongdae noticed him; he didn’t look happy. “So you’re alive.”

“Your neighbor let us in,” Taeyeon said happily. “They said you would be back tonight.”

Jongin froze.

“It’s glad to know that my mate is healthy and fine, too bad that I only knew that through other people,” Jongdae said dryly. “Which is weird since we live together.”

“Hello,” Kyungsoo finally reached him. “You must be Jongin’s friends. Let’s go upstairs…”

“I have a ring,” Jongin showed his hand.

“I also have one,” Taeyeon mirrored him. “You’re not special.”

Jongdae narrowed his eyes, standing up. Kyungsoo approached them and bowed, introducing himself and guiding them inside. Locked in the elevator, Jongin pouted.

“I’m sorry, hyung,” he pleaded. “I was avoiding people. I just… didn’t want to touch my phone at all. I’m really sorry.”

“Your actions have consequences,” Jongdae said. “The publishing house called Junmyeon after they tried to call you. And then he called me like I had any clue. I had to go after your friends to find out where the hell you were. Can you please send me a message when you leave the country?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jongin asked a hundred times.

Kyungsoo lifted their mood after serving one of the wines that he bought in their wine route. Even Taeyeon, that rarely drank, asked for a sip.

“It seems that people weren’t just interested in your music, they said that there was a significant preorder compared to the other books aimed at kids,” Taeyeon informed him, smiling. “So they were looking for you to ask your permission for a translated version to English, maybe a second edition. I believe Junmyeon gave the green light for those.”

“I’ll contact them as soon as possible,” Jongin promised. “I’m really sorry.”

“That’s enough apologizing,” Jongdae sighed. “Tell me about that ring.”

Jongin glanced at Kyungsoo, that had just sat next to him. It made Jongin feel so comfortable, just two couples sitting in front of each other, nothing to hide.

“I guess I’ll be married after I serve the country,” Jongin said. “There I’ll take with me a picture of Kyungsoo’s ass and tell them it’s my girlfriend’s.”

Kyungsoo slapped his arm. Jongdae smiled, shaking his head.

“I’m happy for you,” he said. “And happy to meet your… boyfriend, but I need to know when you’re coming back. Minseok just set a date for… that thing that we can’t name.”

“His thesis defense day?” Jongin asked, shocked.

“Ah, come on,” Jongdae snorted. “You weren’t supposed to say it out loud.”

“I’m sorry,” Jongin covered his mouth with both hands.

“He’ll go home tomorrow,” Kyungsoo said calmly. “Today was a busy day for everyone. I’m sorry, I should’ve warned about the wine route.”

“That’s not your fault,” Jongin said quickly. “I was irresponsible.”

Jongdae looked at them, curious, while holding his glass of wine. They had small talk until they had to leave and Kyungsoo insisted to drive them home, but Taeyeon swore that she wasn’t high, it was just a sip. When they finally were home, they felt exhausted from having to deal with a thousand people, so Jongin took a good bath and lay in bed like he was dead.

“Tomorrow you should have a talk with Junmyeon,” Kyungsoo advised. “He won’t come after you but he’s probably waiting for your call.”

“I’ll ask him out, I’ll take Sehun too, I promise that I’ll make up for it,” Jongin mumbled with his head on the pillow.

Kyungsoo was wearing his underwear, fresh from shower, perfumed skin. Jongin turned his whole body to stare at him.

“Why are you dressing?” He inquired. “Come here, let’s talk.”

Kyungsoo ignored him tapping the bed and put a white t-shirt on. He sat on the bed and grabbed his glasses, not looking at Jongin.

“You’re different now,” he whispered. “About sex.”

Jongin’s smile died on his face. He knew that there was a whole thesis behind those words.

“Am I doing something that you don’t like?” Jongin asked carefully.

“No,” Kyungsoo shook his head. “It’s just different. I was expecting you to change, of course, but not…”

“Well, Kyungsoo, I was almost virgin when we’ve met,” Jongin said, frowning. “I’d been like with two girls my whole life back then. I knew nothing.”

“And do you know now?” Kyungsoo stared at him, serious. “Did you take classes?”

Jongin gaped, incapable of giving an answer. He didn’t know why he felt so exposed about it – he was allowed to have sex, to have experiences of any sort. He wasn’t like Chanyeol with his pack of dildos ( _sometimes I use two,_ he said to Jongin like it was nothing, I tend _to exaggerate_ ) and his free love way of life and he wasn’t a guy who wanted casual flings, even though he had casual sex, but well, at least now he wasn’t crying during anal sex anymore. But he still didn’t have an answer.

“No, I didn’t,” Jongin rolled his eyes. “But based on how we communicate, maybe I should.”

Kyungsoo’s mouth twisted and he looked away. He didn’t know, Jongin knew. He didn’t know that Jongin didn’t come out to his family, he didn’t know that he was Jongin’s first.

“If you don’t like anything, then you can tell me,” he said quietly. “I can change.”

“I don’t want you to change,” Jongin sighed. “I just want you to open up. Sex didn’t change me, you see. My accident did, my therapist did… I did it. I like what we have and if I didn’t want it, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Hm,” Kyungsoo grunted, not satisfied.

“Oh, I see,” Jongin grinned. “You’re jealous.”

“Yes,” Kyungsoo said because he hardly lied. “But I know I have no right to be.”

Jongin threw himself on him, allowing his heavy body to crush Kyungsoo’s under his.

“God, Jongin,” Kyungsoo complained, taking his glasses off. “Calm down.”

“You’re jelly,” Jongin sang with a cute voice, smiling like a fool. Kyungsoo smiled back, like he couldn’t believe that.

“How old are you,” he laughed.

“You don’t have to be jealous,” Jongin said. “I am a fool for you.”

Kyungsoo stared at him and Jongin couldn’t understand why it wasn’t obvious.

The next day when he was packing to go back to the house in the woods, he stared at himself in the mirror. How different was he? He still looked like himself and besides a sore leg, he only had a scar from the accident. Even if he was now in a better place, he struggled with so many things that he couldn’t picture that huge difference that Kyungsoo pointed.

He stared at his ring.

 

 

.

 

 

Nor Jongdae nor Minseok had time for Jongin when he got back. Minseok barely left home, drowning in papers, glued to his notebook. When he was hungry or he needed anything, he went to Jongdae’s place like it was his personal restaurant – but no one said anything because he looked exhausted. Jongdae’s night shift made him a vampire, sleeping through the day so deeply that he didn’t even leave the room to drink water. Taeyeon helped Jongin to translate a few emails, but she looked as busy as them, of course.

This time, Jongin didn’t mind at all. He got himself busy reading, calling the editor-in-chief and if he felt lonely, he just visited his family or stayed with Kyungsoo.

Sehun called him for a dinner; Jongin forgot to call Junmyeon first.  

“Where are you going, handsome?” Taeyeon whistled when she saw him standing on the door, all dressed up.

“Dinner with friends,” he smiled. He almost forgot about the time when he was effortlessly happy like that. He put his valentine shirt and bag, put makeup on and didn’t mind when the uber driver recognized him.

Sehun chose one of the most expensive restaurants in the town and he was there, shaking his flipflops next to Junmyeon in a suit.

“Sorry, am I late?” Jongin was guided to their table.

“No,” Sehun said. “I was just hungry, so I already ordered food.”

The table was covered in bowls and dishes. Jongin sat next to Junmyeon and held his shoulder. He looked calm, relaxed, but Jongin knew that he was probably worrying about a thousand things.

“I just came here to apologize,” Jongin said. “I’m sorry for not answering when you tried to reach me.”

Junmyeon grabbed his long wine glass and moved it in circles.

“That’s okay, Jongin,” he said. “You have the right to be quiet once in a while. The only problem was that I had to speak to them instead of you, I hope you’re not mad.”

“No, of course not,” he smiled. “You did what was right. You’re really thoughtful, hyung.”

Sehun frowned, munching his lamb.

“Why are you acting like that?” He asked, suspicious.

“Sehun,” Junmyeon sighed. It was that tone that said _please don’t start bickering._

“I am grateful,” Jongin raised an eyebrow. “Can I ask for the menu?”

“You can eat,” Junmyeon offered. “There’s enough for the three of us.”

“I heard that you were in Italy,” Sehun asked casually. “Were you in Rome?”

Jongin took a glass of water that was untouched and drank it before answering.

“No, in Tuscany,” he said.

“Oh, it’s a gorgeous place and it must be so nice now that it’s colder,” Junmyeon smiled. “I’m glad that you’re going to different places, Jongin. You look a lot better.”

Sehun snorted quietly as if he remembered something really funny.

“I told you that he was fine,” he said, staring at his place, but directed at Junmyeon, of course. “If he disappears like that, what else he could be doing but sucking Kyungsoo’s dick?”

It had a silencing effect at the table. Junmyeon put the chopsticks on his plate and sighed loudly.

“Sehun,” he used his paternal voice. “This is nor the place or the moment for you two to start fighting.”

“Why would we,” Jongin put his elbows on the table, smiling. “I mean, he’s right, it’s indeed my favorite activity.”

Junmyeon gaped at him, annoyed. Jongin never tried to start a fight when he was trying to meddle. Jongin was the good one, the one who followed the unspoken rules. Sehun was the petty one.

“Please,” he begged. “I just want to have a good meal.”

“So tell me,” Sehun asked, pretending to be curious. “What’s the news?”

Jongin stared back. He knew what was happening, they’ve been there a thousand times. When they started competing in school, when they decided to follow different paths, when they also wanted to do the same thing.

“I’m engaged,” he said, not daring to blink. The ring was on plain sight.

For a moment, Jongin regretted saying it. He could hear Junmyeon’s deep breath and even if Sehun’s expression didn’t change, Jongin knew that no one would congratulate him.

Sehun pushed his chair back, stood up and started walking away from the table. Jongin was shocked for a second, then he stood up too.

“No,” Junmyeon pleaded. “Jongin, no, you’ll make things worse.”

“Worse than this?” He laughed and ran after Sehun. He felt ridiculous, trying to chase his friend, trying not to bump into people, two adults running like kids. He only caught him up when they were in the parking lot.

“Sehun,” he called.

“Go away,” Sehun grunted.

Jongin grabbed his elbow. Sehun turned to him; his dark hair was dancing to the cold wind, his face was red – they didn’t take their coats with them.

“Go away,” he repeated. “This is not about you.”

“What,” Jongin mumbled, staring at his teary eyes. “Of course, it is.”

Sehun pressed his lips into a line and Jongin knew what was coming. That part of him that almost no one was allowed to see, that his private persona didn’t show up, the best and worst part of him.

“Jongin,” he said dryly. “My heartbreak is not about you. It’s mine only.”

Jongin was quiet but he didn’t leave.

“Go away,” Sehun said – it was the last warning. “I don’t want to cry in front of you.”

“I won’t,” Jongin said, his eyes burning.

Sehun stared at him, tired. It was a bad place for that kind of conversation.

“Jongin, the world doesn’t revolve around you, even if you try so hard to become the center of the attention every goddamn time,” he said. “Your happiness isn’t hurting me. Your break up didn’t make him love me, so what’s the point. You don’t have to feel guilty because you’re not.”

“I'm not feeling guilty,” he mumbled like a child.

“You’re not? So, you just want the attention, even when I’m the one hurting,” Sehun spat. “It’s just so tiring. You’re insufferable, I swear. You don’t see that you’re acting like a child, screaming because no one wants to play with you. That was the reason why you made such a scene when Kyungsoo pushed you away. That’s why you’re acting like this. Why don’t you just go back to the stage? I mean, that’s clearly where you were born to be.”

“You don’t have to be mean,” Jongin said defensively.

“Shut up, I told you to leave,” Sehun looked at him with disgust. “You’re here because you want to listen, because you know that I’ll be the only one to say it, because I’m your fucking friend. You want me to be mean and then you’ll cry about it because I’m the bitchy one. You made your career problem everyone’s problem, you made your relationship problems everyone’s problem. And you can handle things on your own, look at you now. So get your shit together and mind your business. I can’t wait to see when you start annoying him again because he didn’t make you the center of his life. You don’t deserve him at all, he’s too good for you.”

“But he wants me,” Jongin said without thinking.

It was a mistake. It didn’t shut Sehun up and then Jongin deserved every word.

“Yes, he does, congratulations,” he said with a blank face. “And what are you going to do when he doesn’t want you anymore? Throw yourself in front of a car again?”

Jongin winced.

“I didn’t do it,” he gulped. “You know I didn’t do it.”

Sehun smiled.

“Didn’t your father told you to look both ways before crossing the street?”

And he turned back, leaving Jongin alone in the parking lot.

 

 

.

 

 

 

Jongdae opened the room’s door, confused. He was so small, Jongin thought, staring at him.

“Are you okay?” Jongdae smiled. “Did you go to therapy yesterday?”

“It’s tomorrow,” Jongin moved in bed. “I’m fine, hyung. Thanks for checking.”

Jongdae didn’t leave. He was wearing his pajamas and he seemed to be sleepy. Five in the morning already and Jongin simply couldn’t sleep.

“Hm,” he said. “Did something happen?”

“I’m just thinking about things,” Jongin smiled. “Don’t worry.”

“Okay,” he said. “My room’s door is unlocked if you need anything…”

Jongin nodded and his smile died on his face as soon as his friend closed the door. He let his head fall on the bed again and sighed.

He couldn’t stop thinking about what Sehun had said _. Why don’t you just go back to the stage? I mean, that’s clearly where you were born to be._

Jongin took a deep breath, trying to get mad, to cry, to find an escape from that torturing feeling. He took the ring off his finger and sat up. He wanted to talk to someone, to open up, but he had to way until the next day when he was going to rant nonstop with his therapist.

He left his room and checked on Jongdae; the poor nurse was already sleeping. He went to the kitchen and made himself a cup of milk and cinnamon and then sat on the couch. It was cold and again, he forgot the window open. _Jongdae must have been really tired_ , he thought.

“Put your slippers on,” Chanyeol opened the door and stared at him. “And follow me.”

Jongin stared at him, shocked. Chanyeol’s hair was blue like the sky and he was wearing a long white shirt and tiny slippers that barely fit his feet.

“What?” Jongin mumbled.

“Come on,” Chanyeol said. “Your legs are fine, aren’t they? Come with me to Minseok hyung’s place.”

And he left, as unexpectedly as he arrived. Jongin put the mug on the floor and followed him upstairs. He didn’t even know that Chanyeol was back in town – no one told him. Minseok’s apartment was open and Jongin’s eyes widened when he saw that Chanyeol was carrying Minseok like a heavy potato bag.

“What’s happening,” he braced himself. “Is he okay?”

“Oh, yes, now he is,” Chanyeol turned to Jongin, smiling. “I drugged him.”

Jongin blinked many times.

“You did what?”

“When I got here, he was refusing to sleep. He said that he was drinking coffee every time that he needed to go to bed,” Chanyeol walked between piles of paper. “So I put a sleeping pill on a donut and gave him. Now he’s sleeping.”

Jongin raised his hand to argue and then shook his head.

“I’ll consider this an intervention,” he mumbled. “That’s the kind of thing that Taemin would do to me. Though he would drag me on the floor, no doubt.”

“I’ll put him in bed and then we have to organize this hell of a room,” Chanyeol sighed. “I’m not great at that, so you have to help me.”

Jongin wanted to protest because he was also a messy person but he just allowed Chanyeol to accommodate Minseok in bed. _Everyone is exhausted,_ Jongin thought, staring at Minseok sleeping peacefully, _we’re all killing ourselves in some way._

Chanyeol didn’t look tired as he sounded on the phone. He swept the room, humming a song, while Jongin was trying to separate papers from the trash.

“He doesn’t clean this place in a while,” Chanyeol sighed. “This is a bad sign. He’s normally obsessed with cleaning and organizing.”

“The defense day is next month,” Jongin mumbled.

“Ah, I see, I forgot that,” he mumbled.

Jongin looked up at him. Chanyeol was a lot healthier with red, chubby cheeks. He wanted to ask so many things but he felt like he wasn’t allowed too. That weird conversation that they had, never finished and never explained, created an abyss between them. Yet Jongin was happy to see him, happy to be around him again.

“When did you arrive?” He finally asked.

“Yesterday,” Chanyeol said. “I think I’ll stay until December. I want to spend my birthday here, it’s soon.”

“Oh,” Jongin nodded, looking down.

“I won’t bite,” Chanyeol laughed. “Why do you look like you’re scared of me?”

Jongin gulped but smiled after, as if he was saying ‘I’m not’. Chanyeol shook his head and kept sweeping.

“I have a new tattoo,” he announced and then showed the bow on his arm, right next to the monkey tattoo. “Do you like it?”

“Yes,” Jongin said, fascinated. He liked Chanyeol’s tattoos and the detachment to just mark something in his skin forever.

“It’s because I’m a Sagittarius, I had to remind myself of that,” he said cryptically.

Jongin kept quiet, stuffing a bag with wrinkled papers.

“I’ll get one,” he mumbled. “One day.”

Chanyeol didn’t listen, still humming a song. It really felt that nothing had changed, that the time that they were apart was just an odd weekend.

“Are you mad at me?” Jongin finally asked.

Chanyeol held the broom and turned to him, frowning.

“No, I’m not,” he said, confused. “Should I?”

“I don’t know,” Jongin said.

He wiped his forehead and sat on the couch where Jongin was resting his back against.

“I like you very much,” he said. “And because I like you, I’m happy when you’re happy and I want things to be good between us.”

Jongin looked up at him.

“I’m sorry,” he said. It seemed that all he had been doing was apologize.

“For what?” Chanyeol snorted. “If it’s because you left me talking to ghosts, then I’ll accept it. If it’s because you’re back to that guy, ah. I mean, I guess it was a matter of time, huh? I was the dumb one.”

Jongin smiled like a fool. Chanyeol was just one of those people who had a heart too big for their own good.

“You’re not dumb,” Jongin said. “It’s nice to see you again, hyung. I think it’ll always be nice to see you.”

“Yet you don’t look happy,” Chanyeol said. “Minseok is fine, you know. I took those pills back in Japan, they’re safe.”

“I’m not worried about him… maybe I should,” Jongin sighed. “I just had a fight with my best friend and he said something…”

Jongin bit his lip. _Why don’t you just go back to the stage? I mean, that’s clearly where you were born to be._

“He said what?” Chanyeol’s warm voice interrupted his thoughts.

Jongin thought about his bad dreams where he was watching his friends on stage, locked in the audience forever. He thought about how he was angry when Kyungsoo didn’t pick his phone. How he lost his mind when Taemin made new friends. He even never watched Junmyeon’s musicals, though he was good at it.

“I don’t miss the sax,” Jongin said. “I miss the stage. I need the applause; I need to be seen.”

Chanyeol slipped from the couch to the floor, sitting right next to Jongin. He moved the broom and poked Jongin with it.

“That’s not a bad thing.”

“I know,” he smiled. “Now I’m thinking, my dad was my first audience. I lost the instrument and my biggest fan almost at the same time.”

It was so clear, so simple, that Jongin teared up.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Chanyeol panicked. “Don’t cry because if you cry, then I’ll cry. Let’s finish this and eat some ice cream.”

Jongin wiped his eyes and looked at him.

“I also like you very much, hyung,” he said and then realized they were sitting right next to each other and, unconsciously, put distance between their bodies. “Sorry. You’re a good friend, that’s what I meant.”

Chanyeol grabbed his wrist, a gentle but determined gesture.

“I don’t care how you like me,” he said, serious. “Just don’t push me away, please.”

“I won’t,” Jongin said. “I won’t.”

 

 

 

.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the comments, they made me really happy~


	10. XV

 

**CHAPTER XV**

**THE CHANGE OF SKIN**

**.**

 

 

Jongin was in the middle of the street when he got the call. He left his therapist’s office and decided to walk around the neighborhood. It had been a long time since he was this reckless, walking on the streets carelessly, in the middle of the day, alone. It was really cold, so he could hide under a coat and wool hat, sunglasses and scarf, just staring at people, imagining the lives that they led, just like he used to do. He bought sweet treats for Jongdae and Minseok and even some cookies for Chanyeol.

And then the phone rang. It was the editor-in-chief talking through a translator, which helped Jongin a lot.

He went back to the house in the woods, excited, his bags shaking as he climbed the stairs like the devil was coming after him.

“Hyung,” Jongin panted, opening the main door. “Hyung, are you home—”

He heard their voices and froze, one foot already inside. He waited a little more to confirm and stepped back and closed the door. He went to Minseok’s place first.

He knocked on the door.

“Hyung?” He tried.

“It’s open,” Minseok said.

His house was back to it’s normal, Jongin noticed as soon as he walked in. Minseok was sitting on the floor, laptop on the tiny round desk at the center of his small living room. There were still piles of papers, now used as cat pillows, as Tan and a couple of stray cats were chilling around. He was using pink pajamas and pink slippers and his huge glasses were slipping down his nose when he looked up to Jongin.

“Hey,” he said. “How are you doing, hyung? You look cute.”

“Thank you,” Minseok giggled. “I’m actually fine now. Thanks for helping me with the trash. Chanyeol told me that you helped him.”

“No problem,” Jongin gave him the paper bag. “I brought donuts. They’re sleeping pill free.”

Minseok laughed, hitting his tights.

“Ah, I’m glad,” he smiled, taking it gently from Jongin’s hand. “Ah, Chanyeol. He’s crazy, no doubt, but he has a good heart.”

“And drugs,” Jongin said and Minseok laughed again.

“How are you, Jonginnie?” Minseok pushed his glasses up, looking at him curiously. “That’s a pretty ring that you have there.”

“Yes, I’m pretty well,” Jongin stared at his own hand. “I don’t wanna waste your precious time, hyung. I know you’re finishing writing. I don’t want to distract you.”

“Ah, yes, yes, but at least I’m taking a breath from this hell while talking to you,” he moved his arm to pet Tan. “Are you here because the loud people downstairs are making a lot of noise?”

Jongin blinked and then snorted.

“Yes,” he said.

“You want to take a nap, you can stay here, I won’t sleep anytime soon,” Minseok pointed to his room. “If you want a fun shelter, I guess Chanyeol’s friend already left. He’s probably alone by now.”

Jongin nodded.

“I see,” he gulped. “Thanks. I need to give him a few cookies, anyway.”

Jongin walked out, waving, but his smile died on his face after he closed the door. If Chanyeol brought someone home with him, then Jongin wouldn’t interrupt them. Jongin sat on the stairs and ate the cookies, alone.

Then, of course, he left for Kyungsoo’s apartment, where he sat down to read and wait. It wasn’t calming as he expected – being alone in his place in the middle of the day reminded Jongin of his depressed days. It was such a strong feeling that he couldn’t even face the bed; he had to stay on the couch, answering emails, checking for any message.

He had such good news and he had to wait until someone was available to listen to him. He tried not to get too deep in that feeling of loneliness, _not having a single soul to share his happiness_ , not comfortable to talk because people were busy and he didn’t want to be a nuisance.

He stared at himself in the mirror and sighed.

“No,” Jongin said, out loud, to the walls and the spirits. He would fight the feeling.

He sent the message to _everyone._ Family, friends, ex-coworkers, not-so-close friends. Some answered immediately, a few didn’t even receive it. _Congratulations, Jongin!_ He smiled, basking on the sensation of being rewarded. Even Jongdae answered with a happy emoji.

He was reading Chanyeol’s message – tons of exclamation points – when Kyungsoo came home.

“Ah,” Jongin smiled.

Kyungsoo took a while to notice him, struggling to take off his shoes. When he faced Jongin, he smiled – or tried to –, still using stained clothes from the kitchen.

“Hello,” he said.

“Did you get my text?” Jongin asked, standing up, laptop in his hands.

“I… don’t know,” Kyungsoo pushed his glasses up, and Jongin could see something on his arm under the fabric of his clothes. “I didn’t have time to check my phone. What happened?”

“They set a date for the release,” Jongin said a bit quieter. “I’ll sign the books…”

“That’s wonderful,” Kyungsoo said genuinely, even if he looked tired. “Please warn me later so I put on my planner.”

“What happened to your arm?” Jongin walked to him, unsure.

“Hot soup,” Kyungsoo said and turned back immediately, walking away. Jongin stood there, confused for a second.

“It spilled on your arm?” He asked, following Kyungsoo. “Did you take care of it?”

“Yes, I did, it wasn’t serious,” Kyungsoo said, leaving his keys on the table, never looking back. Jongin stopped when Kyungsoo entered the bathroom, and, because he was avoiding the bed, he went back and sat on the couch. Kyungsoo looked hurt and tired, it wouldn’t be nice to ask him out to celebrate. Jongin rubbed his face, taking a deep breath.

“One day at a time,” he repeated.

 

 

.

 

It only got stronger when Jongin held the book for the first time.

The cover was exactly like he envisioned; red and gold, bright and classic. He touched and felt the texture on the tip of his fingers, excited. The lady was explaining the type of the paper to him, talking about the quality. Jongin didn’t know much about numbers or names, but he could feel it. Junmyeon was sitting on the chair next to him, watching with a smile on his face. He looked proud as he used to be back when he watched Jongin performing.

“Can I read?”

She laughed, her long nails touching the wooden table.

“You have to! You need to warn us if there’s something that you don’t like,” she said. Once in a while, someone walked in with coffee or sweets; the table had a few empty cups. Jongin felt like crying when he read the dedication. It was a copy of his note, printed exactly as he wrote. They even put the picture that he selected, an old one when he was a kid, holding his father’s hand. The font was pretty, well designed and he was so anxious that his hands were sweating.

He read the book, whispering the words and counted the drawings.

“You didn’t include a few,” Jongin said, out loud. “Right?”

“Yes,” she said. “It was actually because of the printing, but we knew that we couldn’t include them all.”

“Oh,” he nodded. “Of course. It’s great, actually. I loved it.”

“Are the translated editions going to be just like this one?” Junmyeon asked, cracking his knuckles elegantly as only he could do.

“No, of course not,” she informed them. “It wouldn’t be smart. Every country has different conceptions of how a book should look or be. This is an incredibly expensive version. I believe that the English one will be a lot cheaper and easy to carry. We will send you different options, of course. We don’t want to take any decisions that you wouldn’t approve.”

“Thank you,” Jongin said. “When can I have the original drawings back?”

“Oh, now,” she stood up.

Junmyeon and Jongin walked a few steps behind her.

“Thank you for coming with me,” he repeated for the tenth time. “Really.”

Junmyeon only smiled.

“You know that this is my job too, right,” he said.

“I know you have more important things to do,” Jongin shrugged.

“I don’t think that helping you in your first professional project in a while seems like a small task,” he frowned. “I’m still the one managing you, Jongin. I understand that this is something else, but…”

Jongin stopped walking and turned to him quickly.

“Can you find a way to get me a book signing in France?” He asked.

“Not a book signing or anything related to books,” he said wisely. “But if you want to promote anything in France, I can get you a deal. Or an interview.”

Jongin considered it.

“Hey,” the lady said, holding a glass door at the end of the corridor.

“Oh, sorry,” Jongin grabbed Junmyeon’s wrist and kept walking. “We should discuss that later.”

“We could go out for drinks,” Junmyeon said. “I know a great place around here.”

Jongin checked all the originals and was touched by the way they were treating it like it was a precious painting – it was, of course, but some of the drawings weren’t in a good state. There were even a few doodles that Jongin collected himself as a child.

“They didn’t include my favorite,” Jongin said when they were going back to the hotel. “But I understand, it wasn’t in good condition, anyway.”

“Do you have a copy of those for yourself?” He asked.

“Of course,” Jongin smiled. “But their print needed the originals.”

“Well, then maybe you can do something else with them.”

Junmyeon took them to a club after they found a nice place in the room to keep the drawings. He didn’t even allow Jongin to get dressed and maybe he was right, Jongin took a lot of time to look presentable. A year ago, Jongin would refuse to leave home dressed so casually but now he was just glad that he didn’t look as bad as he looked when he was recovering.

It was one of those places that Jongin only saw in movies, the security guard stared at them, Junmyeon handed him a few dollar bills and they got in, straight to the second floor. The lights were hitting his face and the song was too loud, but when they got on the table, the drinks started coming.

“Who are giving us those drinks?” Jongin asked every time and Junmyeon pointed discreetly to a random person.

Jongin liked to stare at their clothes, their hairstyles and how different they looked. It was like Paris after graduation when Jongin was free from the school uniform and the ‘appropriate’ haircut.

“This is nice,” he said.

“Do you want to go to France?” Junmyeon asked, drinking a blue, sparkling drink in a whiskey glass. “Why?”

“I don’t know, I just want to go away for a while,” Jongin confessed. “It seems that I feel better every time I leave the country.”

 _I want more and I think this… country is very suffocating. I want to be where things are happening,_ Soojung’s voice permanently in his mind.

Junmyeon just stared at him while drinking.

“Even in Tuscany,” Jongin said. “Even if I wasn’t with Kyungsoo, I would still be happy. Because I was in a different place, where the memories couldn’t reach me.”

“Well,” Junmyeon said. “That’s clear. I can help you with that.”

“I don’t think I ever thanked you for putting me in that place, hyung,” Jongin realized. “The house in the woods, I mean. I don’t know where I would be now without those people that I met there.”

“Jongdae is a good person with a big heart,” Junmyeon agreed. “But you needed more than that, Jongin. You needed the isolation, the detox.”

“The stairs,” Jongin mumbled.

“The stairs,” Junmyeon agreed.

On the way out, a man held his wrist and pulled him closer, saying words in English that Jongin couldn’t understand. Junmyeon pulled Jongin back,

“He’s taken,” he giggled.

The man thought that they were a couple.

“The more the merrier,” he said, winking, and Junmyeon refused him again. Jongin couldn’t stop giggling on the taxi’s backseat.

They went back the next day and Jongin went straight to the house in the woods, sensing that he had to at least show to Jongdae that he could be a responsible adult for once. He felt a little weird going back, that feeling of discomfort showing up; his body was aware that his time living there was ending.

He climbed the stairs slowly, looking around. He heard their voices again, but this time it was different – they were singing happy birthday. Jongin ran inside, almost tripping on his way to the door.

No one stopped screaming because of him, of course. Chanyeol was sitting on the floor, birthday hat on his head like a kid, holding a green cake. He was smiling, looking up at his friends.

“Sorry, I’m late,” Jongin said. He couldn’t recognize a few faces, so he just smiled and stood next to the door. Jongdae put a birthday hat on him and offered him a slice of cake.

“You’re just in time,” Chanyeol said. “I didn’t even blow the candles.”

“Are you going to do this today or…?” Taeyeon was impatient; everyone was eating from another cake in the table, but the one that Chanyeol was holding was bigger and prettier. It had _Chanyeollie_ written on it, surrounded by many hearts.

“I’m still thinking, it’s only one wish and I have millions,” he said, serious, rubbing his bare feet on the floor.

“Oh, you’re not like me, Chanyeol, don’t do that, you know what you want,” a guy next to him said. “Priorities.”

“Okay, Yixing-hyung,” Chanyeol closed his eyes, smiling. “I’ll try.”

He blew the candles, smiling. Since they were all comfortable at home, Jongin tried to relax; having so many people around, singing and being happy shooed the bad feeling away. They started talking and Jongin lost track of time, laughing with his friends. When Chanyeol’s friends announced that they were leaving, Minseok wanted to leave too.

“I have things to finish,” he protested but Chanyeol closed the door and Jongin held him back, hugging him.

“They’ll finish you first,” Jongdae said wisely, eating a piece of cake.

Jongin, however, was exhausted because of the long flight. He helped them cleaning the house and then offered to take Chanyeol’s gifts upstairs. Minseok escaped when they were distracted, so the two of them carried the box on their own.

“I heard you bought me cookies but you never delivered them,” Chanyeol said playfully, leading him. “I hate empty promises, Jongin. They break my heart.”

Jongin frowned, trying to not trip while holding a box full of LPs.

“I didn’t promise anything to you, at least not about cookies,” he argued. “When did I told you that I was going to do something and I didn’t?”

“Humm,” Chanyeol dropped the box on the carpet. “Am I allowed to talk about that time you said you would fuck my ass while carrying me now that you’re taken?”

Jongin stared at him, serious.

“Ok, that’s a no, give me the box,” Chanyeol snorted. “Well, you also always talk about getting a tattoo but it doesn’t sound very convincing.”

“I’m serious about it,” Jongin protested. “I’m just not sure yet. It needs to be an important thing.”

“If it’s important then you’re supposed to know what it is,” Chanyeol crosses his arms, smiling. “I mean, that’s easy, no?”

“No,” Jongin complained, almost pouting. “I need to know the right time too and it’s not that simple to find out—”

“Now,” Chanyeol said and took the box from Jongin’s hands himself.

“Now?” Jongin wanted to laugh. “I don’t even know what I want to tattoo.”

“What’s an important thing that you wanted to be in your skin forever? It could be something about you. Like, a date? Or maybe a symbol.”

“You can’t be serious,” he shook his head.

“Listen, if you wait for the right time, then, you’ll never do it,” Chanyeol shrugged. “You need to take advantage of those impetuous moments, you know? Now or never. I mean, you got hit by a car, man. You could have died. We think that we have lots of time but we don’t know. Life is short and unpredictable.”

“That’s a fairly good argument,” Jongin mumbled. Maybe a tattoo would rid the feeling of being permanently stuck, of being always the audience. He stared down at his body, who faced so much in the last months. He had a scar, a permanent tattoo that he never chose to have; at least a tattoo would be an art piece.

“Really?” Chanyeol seemed surprised. “I was just ranting.”

“I think there’s a thing that I would love to tattoo,” Jongin mumbled. “Oh, god. Now, I’m really thinking about it.”

Chanyeol turned back and ran away, taking his shirt off. Jongin stood in the same place, surprised.

“Go change, meet me in the car,” he said happily, disappearing in the room. “Don’t waste a second or you’ll end up changing your mind!”

Jongin snorted, shaking his head. He could at least go to a tattoo shop and see the place, see if he felt comfortable seeing someone else's tattoo. He went back home and put on comfortable clothes; Jongdae was drinking warm milk, sitting on the couch and asked him.

“Where are you going?”

“Tattoo shop with Chanyeol,” he said, brushing his hair. “Maybe I’ll get a tattoo.”

“Ah, really,” he smiled for a second. “Just don’t come back too late…”

Jongin turned to him, raising one eyebrow.

“Why?”

Jongdae shrugged, licking his white lips. Jongin put the hairbrush on the table, leaning on the window. The house seemed smaller as if Jongin had grown an inch suddenly.

“We’re just going there and then coming back, no clubs or drinking or anything like that,” he said.

Jongdae nodded, clearly not impressed by the answer. Jongin crossed his arms.

“Hyung,” he mumbled. “Why are you like that?”

“He told me about the phone call,” Jongdae mimicked a phone with his free hand. “I don’t think that you should keep feeding whatever feeling that he’s nurturing.”

It wasn’t Jongdae’s casual subtlety.

“Then what do you want me to do?” Jongin said. “Do you want me to stop talking to him?”

“No, that would be cruel,” Jongdae said simply.

Jongin was clearly frustrated.

“Just say what you want to say, please.”

“Do you think that I was worried about you when I told you to not get attached? Yes, but not because I think you would fall in love. I knew he would, though. I’ve seen him falling in love and falling out of love with people, cities, instruments, hobbies…” Jongdae stared at the mug. “People like us are just boring compared with Chanyeol.”

“Like us?” Jongin blinked. He was surprised that Jongdae thought that they were alike.

“Do you know that ring in your finger?” Jongdae pointed. “That’s the sort of thing that Chanyeol is running from. Because marriage is boring, quiet life is boring, a stable relationship is boring. He said so. He’s a chaser, after all. And you’re the perfect person for him to fall in love with, someone he knows he’ll never have. For people like him, a heartbreak is poetic, it is just another experience.”

“It could be like that for everyone,” Jongin said.

“Not for me, that’s for sure,” he let out a sad laugh. “How was the heartbreak for you, huh? Did it sound poetic?”

Jongin stared at his own leg, the scar covered by the denim. He thought about Sehun, storming out of his dinner; a younger version of himself, crying in front of an empty gate. No, just pain and forced growth.

“It’s just a tattoo, hyung,” Jongin said defensively.

“Of course it is,” he said. “So come back early, please.”

Jongin left home and waited for Chanyeol, standing next to his car. Chanyeol came back with a huge camera hanging on his neck, black against his purple jumper. He looked excited so Jongin tried to match his energy, smiling.

“Oh, the first tattoo must be documented,” he pointed to his camera. “Did you bring the drawing?”

“Yes,” Jongin nodded. “But I’m making no promises.”

“Ah,” Chanyeol opened the door, shaking his head. “Don’t be like that, Jonginnie.”

The playlist, the car, the route; again the feeling was creeping under his skin. Something was telling him that this was outdated, that he had to leave, to run. His memories went back to Tuscany, Paris, New York. This painful, agonizing nostalgy.

“Is there a place that you would like to live besides here?” Jongin asked casually.

“I once wanted to live in Amsterdam,” Chanyeol said, driving. The lights reflected on his shining eyes. “But you know, any place is worth living. I wanted to enroll in Tourism once because I was fascinated by the idea of meeting every place in the world.”

“That’s nice,” Jongin said absently.

“Hey, you don’t have to be nervous,” Chanyeol said gently. “It’s not as dramatic as people make it sound. You get used to it, the drawing becomes something like your hand or nose. It’s actually addicting. And it’s not going to hurt I swear, though I don’t think that you should be afraid of that since you clearly faced worst things—”

“I know you’re not mad at me,” Jongin said quickly, interrupting him. “But then, I don’t get it. Why do you want me around?”

Chanyeol was gaping like he didn’t have time to close his mouth after Jongin interrupted me.

“Jongin,” he seemed calm. “I’m grateful for having you in my life. You gave me the inspiration to write again. Why wouldn’t I want you around? You never gave me a reason to kick you from my life.”

Jongin was quiet after that, enjoying the low-fi song and the sight of the streets.

“Why are you bothered?” Chanyeol asked. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No, hyung. You would never,” Jongin said quickly. “It’s just because it feels wrong to be around when I know that we’ll never be together. It feels like I’m using you.”

“Did I ask you for us to be together?” Chanyeol looked at him briefly then back to the road. “Jongin, it’s not black and white. I feel things my way and you have your own way, it’s not hard to grasp. You’re projecting your feelings on me and we’re… we’re very different.”

Jongin didn’t have anything else to say.

“Look, I know that you’re engaged and you love someone else and I’m happy for you, I swear. I’m not saying that I’m not disappointed, I clearly pictured things differently,” Chanyeol snorted even if it wasn’t funny. “Just like you, I get mad when people move on away from me, but I get it, it’s life. If you wanted to never see me again, that would hurt more than anything, but you’re here and I’m a part of your life and I can enjoy your presence…”

He gulped and sighed; Jongin knew that face and that tone. He was going to say something hard, painful.

“I don’t want to own you like you want to own that guy,” Chanyeol said. “I don’t love people in a possessive way. And I’m not judging, I promise you. If you want this kind of love, this painful attachment, god, it’s you, nothing will change that, I guess. I’ll truly miss the sex stuff but you know? Friendship is also good and I’ll never have enough friends. I like you and that’s all that matters.”

“I’m sorry,” Jongin said. “Jongdae said something and I was…”

“Listen, Jongdae is a mama bear,” Chanyeol smiled. “And he’s… this very old-fashioned person, sometimes, even if he’s a cool guy. He wants the best for everyone but you shouldn’t rely on his opinion. Listen to your heart, always. That’s what I do.”

Jongin closed his eyes for a while and touched his messenger bag, pressed against his body. He sneaked in that doodle that never made into the book.

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

He sat on the backseat, leaning on a bag that Chanyeol forgot there. It was sore, of course, but the way that the plastic stuck to his skin was a little uncomfortable, especially because it was cold and he had many layers over the tattoo.

“I still can’t believe you faced a rib tattoo so well,” Chanyeol said, starting the engine. Jongin could only hear his voice.

“It’s a nice kind of pain,” Jongin said. “I mean, it doesn’t deform you or makes you look gross. It’s… nice.”

“Are you thinking about the next one?” Chanyeol asked and Jongin could hear his smile.

“No, I will enjoy this one for a while,” he said quietly. The burning feeling of his body cicatrizing was an old, familiar sensation. Suddenly, Jongin didn’t want to go back to the house in the woods. He didn’t want to climb the stairs or sit in that room. He wanted to go to a new place, in a brand new street, to see things that he wasn’t used to.

“Are you hungry?” Chanyeol asked.

“Yes,” Jongin said. “I’m not going to Jongdae’s. I can give you the address, can you drop me there?”

“Of course,” Chanyeol said. “Don’t you want to eat something first?”

“No,” Jongin said resolutely.

Chanyeol didn’t mind. He kept talking about the right ointment and the diet to help the tattoo to heal correctly. Jongin was listening to words _sunscreen, water, oily foods,_ without giving them any meaning, completely disconnected from the conversation. He was thinking about his book and how nice it would be when he read them for kids, to see the joy in their eyes.

Chanyeol had trouble finding Kyungsoo’s place because it wasn’t easy to find. It was that aura of secrecy and security that Kyungsoo carried with him that was applied to everything surrounding him, every choice that he made.

“Is it here?” He asked.

“Yes,” Jongin stretched. “Thank you, hyung.”

Jongin had to call Kyungsoo to check if he was home; he grabbed his bag and left the car, smashing his phone between his cheek and shoulder.

“Do you want help?” Chanyeol offered.

Jongin was about to answer when Kyungsoo’s car passed by them. Jongin took his phone and turned it off, knowing that Kyungsoo wouldn’t answer while driving.

“It’s fine, Chanyeol,” Jongin said. “You can go. Don’t eat the whole cake, save a slice for me.”

Jongin waved and turned back, walking fast to get in. Kyungsoo’s car entered the garage and Jongin waited for him in the entry. He faced himself in the mirror, wondering if something had changed in his body after the tattoo, if there was any sign.

Kyungsoo was still with his work clothes, holding his backpack, wearing his kitchen crocs. He stared at Jongin and smiled.

“Oh, you’re back,” he said quietly.

Jongin felt that wave of tenderness that was so familiar; this time, it didn’t hurt to be back to the past. He told Kyungsoo about the book, the club incident and how Junmyeon was scheduling things for him.

Kyungsoo laughed and nodded. Jongin forgot about the tattoo and took his clothes off as soon as he felt the heating air inside, walking around the glass jars with white stickers, the bowls with fresh fruits, the balcony and the windy room, all the things that he was used to.

He felt Kyungsoo touching him when he was opening the balcony doors and the pressure on the sore place startled him.

He stared at Kyungsoo’s face, narrowed eyes analyzing the drawing, and he didn’t want to argue. Kyungsoo looked at him behind his small, rounded glasses, serious.

“Why did you tattoo this?” He asked carefully.

“They didn’t put in the book,” Jongin gulped. “It’s my favorite. Is it weird? Does it look ugly?”

“No,” Kyungsoo said. “It’s beautiful.”

Jongin smiled, content. Yet Kyungsoo remained serious and quiet, still staring at the tattoo.

“You didn’t like it,” Jongin concluded.

“No, I think it fits you,” Kyungsoo said, sounding genuine. “To have a dear memory attached to your body, it’s a nice homage.”

Jongin let his arms fall, the cold air invading through a tiny crack between the doors. The room was still too dark for a conversation.

“What’s wrong?” Jongin whispered.

“I don’t know,” Kyungsoo said, looking away; he was about to leave, Jongin knew it very well, so he held Kyungsoo’s arm quickly.

They stared at each other under the weak lighting.

“You’ve changed so much,” Kyungsoo mumbled. “I don’t know what to expect anymore.”

“It’s just a tattoo,” Jongin said gently. “Just that.”

“What do you want?” Kyungsoo asked suddenly.

“What?” Jongin blinked.

“Do you know what you want?” He asked again, think time with a firm voice. It was thicker than usual and he looked again like that bossy persona that once in a while erupted from his nice and soft behavior. “I wonder, sometimes, what kind of life do you want.”

“This is the kind of life that I want,” Jongin said, confused. “That one that I have now. I have everything that I want. I’m fine, why are you asking me that?”

“Because sometimes I feel like a trophy,” he stared at Jongin’s eyes, not blinking. That could be read in a positive way, but it wasn’t.

“Why are you freaking out over a tattoo?” Jongin was perplexed. “How did we end up having this conversation?”

“You think that I don’t know things but I do,” Kyungsoo said simply, wriggling his arm free from Jongin’s hold. “I’m busy, not blind or deaf.”

There was something about Kyungsoo walking away that always made Jongin feel like shit. He walked faster and grabbed Kyungsoo, turned him back, pulled him into a kiss. Kyungsoo didn’t resist – he kissed Jongin back with a certain fury, pushing him to the bed. Jongin didn’t think about his tattoo while they were undressing or touching, any physical pain was irrelevant; he was desperate, wanting to rip his own skin out, change it like a snake would.

 

 

 

 

 

 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess it's finally ending...


	11. XVI

**CHAPTER XVI**

**THE REVERSED ROUTINE**

**.**

 

Jongin had a good breakfast and spent at least two hours getting ready. Anyone would think that he was ready to sign his books, but he still had a week to go.

“How’s your rib?” Kyungsoo asked gently, holding a glass of juice. He had cut his hair short and had new glasses on. He was in a good mood lately; work was fine and he and Jongin weren’t fighting that much.

“It doesn’t scratch anymore,” Jongin said, putting his shoes on. “I’ll be late tonight, thesis day, hopefully, it won’t be a disaster and we’ll get to party.”

“Oh,” Kyungsoo smiled and his calm voice helped Jongin a little. “Tell your friend I wished good luck, then.”

He waited for the car on the front of the building, laughing with Jongdae’s videos, mostly showing how they were trying to get Minseok ready.

Jongin checked his emails on the way and only when he left the car, he realized that he didn’t know where the place was – he wasn’t used to walking on the huge campus. A few people noticed him as he followed the signs to the auditorium. Of course, he realized. He was now unused to the fact that he was a musician. How easy it was to forget that when he was now so different, walking on his own in a different direction.

He spotted his friends even before he found the room. Taeyeon and Jongdae were dressed like they were the ones to present and Chanyeol was talking to other people but he was always easy to be noticed anywhere.

“Jongin,” Jongdae smiled, waving. “Come on.”

He was nervous and he realized that everyone was nervous too. He wanted Minseok to succeed so badly, to get rid of that obligation and be praised for his hard work. The corridor was long and illuminated like a hospital and Jongin thought that maybe, in another reality, he could have been there, studying something. His career was decided when he was just a kid, taken as his only fate, which he now knew that it was past. He was allowed to change, allowed to grow, allowed to leave behind.

“There will be food,” Taeyeon said, pointing to a table. “And I think someone will sing or perform.”

“Ah, amazing,” Jongin smiled. “That I can enjoy, I think.”

“It’s not going to be boring,” Jongdae frowned, fixing his beige jacket. “I read it and if I was able to understand, then you’ll be fine.”

Chanyeol passed an arm around Jongin’s shoulder and laughed. He was smelling like expensive perfume and coffee at the same time; Jongin realized that everyone had breakfast together, back in the house in the woods. It made him envious and relieved at the same time. He wanted to spend quality time with them, but at the same time, he didn’t want to feel that uncomfortable nostalgia, that anxious feeling that he couldn’t get rid of.

“Oh, you’re here,” he said, happy. “Good, I was tired of those music muggles. How are you?”

“Sweating,” Jongin sighed. “God, I just want this to end.”

That was his general feeling. He felt like this chapter was taking too long, that everyone was just waiting for the next thing to happen. For the first time in such a long time, Jongin was starving for an end, not afraid of it.

One of the doors next to them opened and a well dressed middle-aged woman stared at them.

“It’ll start in fifteen minutes,” she announced. “You can take your seats now.”

Chanyeol took the lead and chose the second row at the corner. Jongin met Minseok’s family for the first time, his parents and his sister. A lot of students were staring at Jongin’s face, mumbling, and pointing. Jongin was uncomfortable, so he sat down quickly, hiding between his friends.

There was a tiny stage prepared and Minseok still looked small while standing on it, dressed cutely in a long cream sweater and baby blue pants.

“He’s adorable,” Chanyeol laughed.

“I think it’s the tall guy on the opposite row,” Taeyeon pointed.

“I thought it was the lady?” Jongdae was shocked. “God, Minseok is so quick, I swear.”

“What are you talking about?” Jongin tried to ask but it was too late, Minseok’s presentation was about to start.

For the next hour, he had enough time to think. He didn’t blame Minseok for hating his thesis at all since it was indeed boring and he didn’t look excited while talking about it.

“Why did he choose this theme, after all?” Jongin whispered. Chanyeol heard it but just shrugged.

Jongin was thinking about the last months, about his leg, about his new tattoo, now fully healed. When there was a break and people were allowed to leave, Jongin left the building like a few other people who wanted to call someone or smoke. He stared at his phone and thought about calling Sehun.

He tried and Sehun didn’t pick the phone.

Jongin found a bench and sat down, staring at his shiny Valentino shoes for while then looking up to a huge building surrounded by a garden. Some students were on the floor, despite being cold as hell, and they looked way younger than he was.

“Here you are,” Chanyeol woke him up from his daydreaming. Jongin looked at him, his face slightly blurred because he was looking down in a grey sky kind of day. “Got you a piece of the baguette.”

Jongin took the bread and smiled. It smelled delicious.

“Thank you, hyung.”

“Ah, what are you doing here,” Chanyeol asked, confused, trying to understand if Jongin was watching the students.

“Just breathing some fresh air,” Jongin said, munching.

“Ah, you have to watch the second part,” Chanyeol tapped the bench and then sat down next to him. “They’ll evaluate him. If you like to watch people being humiliated, that’s a must.”

“I don’t,” Jongin frowned and wiped his hand on Chanyeol’s jumper. “Do you?”

“No and Minseok asked me not to,” Chanyeol laughed. “He thinks that I’ll get angry… and I probably will try to defend him so, yeah. I’ll meet everyone at the party, it’ll be safer.”

“You’re leaving?” Jongin asked, shocked. “To where?”

“Somewhere I can write, I’m feeling inspired,” he said simply, pushing his hair back.

“Why?” Jongin asked carefully.

Chanyeol didn’t look at him; he looked calm and collected, even if he was shaking his legs, thinking.

“Soon Jongdae will get married and enlist and Minseok will get a better job somewhere, you know, his ideal job, in a place where he can study what he likes,” he said. “You’re already leaving, so it’ll be a matter of time until I move out too. I want to capture this moment.”

“I was feeling the same thing,” Jongin says, impressed. “Hyung, it’s true, then.”

“When you got tattooed, I knew you were going to leave,” Chanyeol said suddenly. “A tattoo sets a new start. I’m starting new too, which I love to do, but endings still hurt, I guess. I’ll try to be positive.”

“You sound positive to me,” Jongin said sincerely and that made Chanyeol stare at him, way too serious.

“You’re nice to me all the time, Jonginnnie,” Chanyeol said. “I’m glad you didn’t push me away. I want you to keep thinking about me in a good way.”

That scared Jongin a little.

“Why are you talking like we’re not going to see each other anymore?” He asked, gulping.

“We will, in a few hours,” Chanyeol stared at his shiny, huge watch. “But that doesn’t matter, because when I finish writing you away from my heart, then we can’t go back. Then we’ll good friends but never this close.”

Jongin was surprised for a second and that’s when he realized that the people were returning to the building – the break was over.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“You’re a very poetic person and even if you refuse to write songs, I wrote about you,” Chanyeol shook his head; he looked like a little kid. “One day, when you have kids, you’ll sit down and listen to them and tell them that once you had a fling with a very handsome man and he wrote those for you. Wouldn’t it be nice?”

It was a nice scenario, yet Jongin felt his throat dry.

“I don’t know where I’ll be, maybe climbing the Everest, maybe running for president, who knows? But when I get older, I’ll have fun thinking about it… what if things were different between us, like old people do, remembering their old lovers,” Chanyeol smiled. “But one day I was sitting here with you and I was happy and that will never change.”

“Hyung, I—” Jongin said. “I don’t like the way it sounds.”

“Why not?” Chanyeol frowned. “It’s not sad. Do you want to change anything?”

“I want to fix things,” Jongin said without thinking. Chanyeol looked at him curiously, maybe he knew that Jongin was talking about something else.

Jongin started to cry in public, sitting on a bench. It was an odd feeling because again, he was hit with the fact that he wasn’t able to change anything. He couldn’t go back and explain to his teenager self and explain why it hurt so badly that his best friend didn’t want to spend time with him. He couldn’t fix his feeling of disappointment in Paris, because he stared at the city looking for meaning when he just wanted the city to look at him instead. He couldn’t fix things between him and his friends, he couldn’t erase the horrible things he did to Kyungsoo, he couldn’t undo what happened between him and Chanyeol. If he could change those things—

Everything always went back to the start. Accept and move on.

Chanyeol pulled him gently into a hug. Jongin didn’t say anything else.

“You have to go back,” Chanyeol said. “Please, I need someone to tell me what happened. Also, they need you there.”

Jongin rubbed his wet face on Chanyeol’s jumper and sniffed. It was nice to know that he was needed and loved, after all. But he was thinking about what he was going to do after he left.

“You know,” Jongin whispered. “You taught me how to look at the future kindly. Thank you.”

Chanyeol tapped his back.

“Come on, go there. You’re gonna be embarrassed when you enter the room in the middle of the talking.”

Jongin nodded and he needed just a few seconds to stand up.

“See you soon,” he said.

“See you soon,” Chanyeol said.

 

.

 

Jongin walked around the empty bookstore while Junmyeon was closing the door. It was dark and quiet and when finally, Junmyeon turned the lights on, he noticed how big it was, how spacious and comfortable.

“It’s nice,” Jongin said.

“Ah, I know,” Junmyeon sighed. “I know it’s not Paris yet but the publishing house did a good job.”

“I’m happy,” Jongin pointed to his smiley face, frustrated.

“You were happier when we were planning the photoshoot,” Junmyeon walked in with his expensive high-heeled boots. “You’re biased.”

“Ah, don’t you think that I’m excited to see all my friends when the last time they sent me flowers I was in a damn hospital?” Jongin asked seriously.

“Yes,” Junmyeon nodded. “But you’re still not as excited as you used to be about things.”

“I’m changed,” Jongin said.

“I know, I can see it, yet something is bothering you,” he said. “Have you talked to Sehun lately?”

Jongin walked to the main table and rubbed his finger on it.

“Not really.”

Jongin thought about calling again when he was celebrating with his friends. Yet, he was still emotional that day and he was afraid of saying something he shouldn’t.

“I will call him,” Jongin said suddenly. “I promise.”

Junmyeon didn’t say anything else about it, focusing on instructing Jongin about the book signing event would be.

Later that night, Jongin was sitting on his bed and essaying a message back and forth, already losing the courage to call. Kyungsoo was cleaning the room and Jongin must have been too obvious because he snorted.

“What are you so nervous about?”

Jongin looked at him and pouted.

“Sehun issues,” he said. “I have to apologize, I think. I mean, he should have apologized. I don’t know. Maybe it was my fault, even if he was mean.”

“How many times did you try to write this message?” Kyungsoo asked, dusting off his black shirt. “Isn’t it easier if you talk to him?”

“You have no idea how it’s hilarious to hear you saying that,” Jongin didn’t miss the opportunity to complain. “Don’t be mad, I wrote you a thousand of unsent messages too.”

“Can I read them now?” Kyungsoo asked suddenly.

Jongin gaped.

“No,” he said, fixing his posture. “They’re embarrassing.”

“It would help me to understand what I missed,” Kyungsoo said. “But I understand.”

Kyungsoo left the room, carrying the portable vacuum cleaner that he was using. He had to sleep in a clean place, Jongin thought. People had their old habits. When Kyungsoo entered the room again, Jongin stared at him.

“Would you date Sehun?”

“No,” he answered simply, taking his glasses off.

“Why not?” Jongin asked immediately.

“I don’t see him that way,” Kyungsoo said. “Why are you asking me that?”

“No reason,” Jongin put his phone on the nightstand, right beside Kyungsoo’s glasses. He wouldn’t get any sleep that night – not because he was anxious about the next day, when he was going to be a writer, no longer a musician. He would never play the sax again and he was okay with that. He made a choice and he couldn’t invest in the past anymore. He was worried about other things.

Kyungsoo didn’t move.

“No reason?”

“I mean, I was thinking … what if things were different,” Jongin mumbled. He realized that Sehun wouldn’t pick the phone again. He wasn’t supposed to be the one to decide when it was the moment, it wasn’t _his_ healing process at that time.

“Thinking about ‘what if’ is a waste of time,” Kyungsoo declared, stretching. “It is what it is.”

“Yes, you’re right,” Jongin agreed, pulling the blanket to cover his legs. It was raining lightly outside, a soft drizzle. “Let’s sleep.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! hope you're safe and well.

**Author's Note:**

> I could survive not publishing any fics, but not this one. this one is my baby. eventually I'll come back to put the rest, don't worry. I'm thinking about putting on my finished works on here but... not sure. if you read that, thanks!
> 
> the quote is from The Price of the Salt, the book that inspired the movie Carol.


End file.
